


The Song of Eve

by Michea



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-30
Updated: 2011-03-30
Packaged: 2017-10-17 09:34:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/175424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michea/pseuds/Michea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An exercise in unashamed self-indulgence and hypothesis, written for my own amusement to explore an original concept of the genesis of an age-old story:  boy meets girl.  Or, to be specific, Time Lord meets...?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Song of Eve

**  
  
**   
**  
_IQ_ **

**  
  
**

“One hundred and five?!  Average?  What sort of bollocks is that?”  Amy threw down the card in disgust and stormed away.

 

“I told you it was a bad idea,” the Doctor murmured, earning a sour look from Rory.

 

“Amy!”  Rory called, going after her.  “I told you it doesn’t mean anything!  Your IQ score is relative; you have to take it in context with every other part of your life.”

 

“That’s easy for you to say, Mister Above-Average-Intelligence,” she snarled, waving Rory’s scorecard in his face.  “Why don’t you just go… go… get into medical school or become a lawyer or something useful like that?  Einstein!”

 

“Actually, Albert Einstein never took an IQ test so there’s no way of knowing…” the Doctor began.

 

“Oh, shut up, Mister my-IQ-is-off-the-scale!”

 

“That’s _Doctor_ my-IQ-is-off-the-scale to you…”

 

“Not helpful,” Rory muttered between gritted teeth.

 

Glaring at both of them, Amy snatched up all three score cards and stalked over to the desk with them, slamming them down in front of the waif-like receptionist whose nameplate read _Eve Riley_.  Eve looked up at the seething red-head, her dark eyes calm and enquiring.

 

“Problem?”

 

“I’ll say there’s a problem!”  Amy snapped.  “I want these tests done again!”

 

“The tests are 100% accurate,” Eve told her.  “DNA profiling provides an accurate assessment of intellectual capacity and potential, and in far greater detail than the Wechsler scale or Binet-Kaufmann tests were capable of.”

 

“Blimey, she sounds just like you,” said Rory, turning to the Doctor.

 

“So what you’re saying,” Amy said, her voice low and deadly, “is that my IQ is set in stone.”

 

“Your _potential_ is set in stone,” Eve corrected her.  “What you choose to do with it is up to you.”

 

"Well said," the Doctor chimed in.  His eyes narrowed and a small smile played on his face. “What about _my_ DNA profile?”

 

  



Without taking her eyes off his face, the girl plucked the appropriate card from the desk in front of her and handed it to him.

 

“Your DNA profile suggests your IQ is somewhere in the range of 400, which would have been off the charts by a good two hundred and forty points by the old scale,” she said.  Smiling slightly, she added:  “You’re not from around here.”

 

The Doctor leaned over to look her squarely in the eye, his smile widening.  “Neither are you.”

 

 **  
  
**

**  
  
**

**  
  
**

**  
_New Pet_   
**

 

“Honestly,” Amy grumbled, dragging her feet.  “Doe-eyed little pixie of a thing who talks like she swallowed a textbook and he’s falling all over himself to invite her aboard!”

 

“Do I detect a hint of jealousy?  Rory asked.

 

“Oh please,” she scoffed.  “He’s like a little boy with a new puppy!  What are we, just pets to him?”

 

“He’s our _friend_ ,” he said.  “Remember friends?  People we care about and are happy for when _they’re_ happy?”

 

“Whatever…”

 

“Don’t you think he feels like a third wheel, sometimes?  Here we are, jaunting all over the place, happily married newly-weds plus one,” he went on.  “Look, they’re well suited, half the jargon he spouts goes right over my head at the best of times so if _she’s_ swallowed a textbook then _he’s_ swallowed a whole _library_.”

 

“And what’s with that punky hair-do…?”

 

“Oh, would you give it a _rest_?!”

 

“I’m just _saying_ …”  Amy pouted and flipped back her hair.

 

“Just leave it, is what _I’m_ saying,” Rory told her in his best ‘this discussion is closed’ voice.  He held the door open and allowed his wife to stalk into the TARDIS and up the steps to the console ahead of him.

 

“So…” the Doctor was winding up his introduction speech.  “Any comments?  Observations?  Charmingly hilarious witticisms?”

 

Eve touched a shiny surface gently.  “Dimensionally transcendental interior,” she murmured.  “Although, I’m surprised this sort of psychograft compression doesn’t affect any of the inner surfaces.  Or the occupants for that matter.”

 

“No, compression technology was outlawed and became obsolete in TARDIS generation early on in the piece; although _this_ model should have been decommissioned centuries ago, it was grown with a biogravity physics manipulator... hang on a minute!”  He spun around to face her.  “You understand how this works!”

 

Eve glanced at Amy and Rory in turn, and then turned her attention back to the Doctor.

 

“Doesn’t everybody?”  She asked.

 

“Nope,” said the Doctor.

 

“Not… really,” Rory expanded

 

“Not a chance in hell,” Amy concluded.

 

“Right,” said Eve.

 

The Doctor narrowed his eyes at her.  “Finish this sentence for me:  ‘You could fix that chameleon circuit if you just tried hot-binding the fragment-links and superseding the...’”

 

“...binary feedback loop with an octopod genetic mutase conductor?  Sure, you could do that.”  Eve said.  “You could also try retrofitting a perception filter, assuming you could get your hands on the necessary parts...” she trailed off, noting the stunned expressions on the faces of the others.  “Or... you could just try… switching it off and switching it back on again...” she finished lamely.

 

Amy threw up her hands and turned to Rory:  “You’re right, she’s perfect for him,” she said, turning on her heel and shaking her head as she disappeared down one of the corridors.

 

“I thought about a perception filter,” said the Doctor, his eyes following Rory as he went after Amy.  “But that wouldn’t change the basic error within the chameleon circuit, it would just be a bandaid solution...” he trailed off as he heard a door slam in the distance.  He turned slowly to Eve.  “What _are_ you?”  He whispered urgently.

 

“The last of my kind,” Eve said, smiling sadly.  “Same as you.”

 

The Doctor raised an eyebrow.  “How would _you_ know?”

 

“Takes one to know one,” she said, turning her attention to the console.  “Do you have an astronomy program?  Of course you have an astronomy program, how else would you navigate...” Eve swept around the console until she found the screen she was looking for.  “Password protected?”

 

“Yeah, no, voice-locked actually,” the Doctor told her.  He leaned forward:  “ _The Doctor_.”  He enunciated clearly into the microphone.  “What galaxy am I looking for...?”

 

“Here, let me drive,” Eve murmured, elbowing him gently in the ribs as she swept her fingers over the screen.  “No, further than that... no... Cadobram system? No, that’s not right... hang on...” she pushed each new image away after scanning the screen briefly.  “Okay, this is getting closer... Axiom... Veloben... here.  Right here.”

 

“That’s a black hole.”

 

“It _was_ a binary star system before they fused and went supernova...”

 

“Hang on, that’s the Caslon system,” said the Doctor, tapping the screen to zoom in on the dark centre of a disappearing galaxy.  “That system collapsed eight thousand years ago...”

 

“Burning up my world, and all my people,” Eve finished softly.

 

“I’m so sorry.”

 

“So am I.”

 

“So how did you end up on Earth?”

 

Eve shook her head.  “I don’t remember,” she told him.  “I was just past my second moulting and barely... oh, eighty years old?  Just a child by Earth’s standards.”

 

“And you survived in an unfamiliar society using only your wits…”

 

“Not to appear conceited, but humans can be extraordinarily… suggestible and… well…” She struggled, searching for a word.

 

“Counter-intuitive?”  The Doctor suggested.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Mindlessly stupid?”

 

“Yes!”

 

“Completely blind, utterly selfish, incurably arrogant?”

 

“Yes!  All those things!”

 

“In their defence, they barely use ten percent of their brains, they’re still evolving…”

 

“Yes, I arrived at the same conclusion, which is why I became interested in DNA analysis of intellectual potential,” Eve said.  “I mean, what could be holding them back?”

 

“Some of them also have enormous capacity for love, and courage,” the Doctor said gently.

 

Eve waved a hand dismissively, as though qualities such as these were of no consequence.

 

“Oh, and switching it off and switching it back on again wouldn’t work, the TARDIS regenerated the last time _I_ did, all the circuitry would have rebooted itself at the same time.”

 

“It was just a thought.”

 

#          #          #

 

When Amy cautiously returned to the control room an hour or so later, she found the Doctor hunkered beneath the glass floor of the console, apparently talking to a cabinet:

 

“The flashing light doesn’t mean anything, it’s just a marker for the circuit,” he was saying.

 

“Okay, got it…” a voice replied.

 

On closer inspection, Amy could see a pair of slender legs protruding from the underside of the console.

 

“Can you _see_ the circuit?”  The Doctor grinned up at Amy and winked.

 

“Don’t be a smartarse, of course I can’t _see_ it,” the voice snapped.  “Hang on a minute…”

 

The Doctor cocked his head, waiting, a slight smile still on his face.

 

“Interesting…” the voice murmured.  There was a scooting noise and Eve popped out from under the console cabinet on a creeper, looking like nothing so much as an elvan motor mechanic.  She fixed the Doctor with a piercing gaze.  “You don’t _want_ to fix the chameleon circuit,” she pronounced.  “You _like_ it that way.”

 

“Give the girl a cigar!”  He said, with a triumphant flourish of his hand.

 

Eve muttered a word under her breath which sounded suspiciously like ‘buffoon’.

 

“But it _could_ be fixed, couldn’t it?” He asked her, his voice teasing the words out.  “If I _wanted_ to change her.”

 

“It _could_ be,” Eve allowed, wiping her hands on a cloth.  “ _If_ you could get the parts, as you might recall I mentioned previously.”

 

“Are you a TARDIS mechanic as well as a secretary, then?”  Amy asked acidly.

 

Eve turned her intense gaze upon the redhead for a moment, and then she smiled.  “I’m multi-talented,” she said.

 

“Of course you are,” Amy said dismissively, turning to the Doctor.  “If we’re not going anywhere anytime soon, Rory and I might pop out for a while?”

 

“Go ahead…”

 

“It’s just, you know, 22nd century looked pretty interesting…”

 

“Be my guest.”

 

“Okay… well…” her eyes flicked from the Doctor to Eve and back to the Doctor again.  “Don’t go anywhere.”

 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

 

Eve watched as Rory threw on a jacket and followed Amy out of the door, then turned to the Doctor.

 

“She doesn’t realise I analysed those DNA samples myself,” she said.

 

“Nope.”

 

“She doesn’t like me very much.”

 

“Don’t worry, she’ll come around.”

 

“Hmph,” Eve grumped.  “How did you damage that chameleon circuit in the first place?”

 

“It’s a long story…”

 

#          #          #

 

After taking a recording of her voice so she could access the mainframe, the Doctor left Eve tinkering with the console and retreated to the far end of the control room to observe her and conduct a little research.  Eve Riley: the last of a race of humanoid winged creatures and a strikingly beautiful creature; frail-looking and childlike in her movements, the Doctor knew she possessed a physical strength well beyond what her slight frame would suggest. 

 

He didn’t allow himself to speculate too deeply on why he’d granted her full access to the memory banks and controls of his borrowed TARDIS after knowing her for only an hour.  He told himself that it was her extraordinary mind and superior intelligence – if not exactly equal to his own then at least far superior to those of the human’s she bore a vague resemblance to – and the opportunity to use it to his advantage which moved him to accept her without the usual acid test afforded to most of his companions.

 

The wings.  Something about the wings.  She didn’t know he knew about them but after travelling for nine centuries he could sense and disregard an organic perception filter, and he knew they were there.  Either she’d tell him in her own good time or he’d ‘accidentally’ let it slip.  But the wings were important, not just as a marker for her species or the feature which would set her aside from the others, but something... _something_ he just couldn’t quite put his finger on.

 

Beautiful, though, by any standard.  Her skin was pale – white to the point of being faintly purple – the colour one might associate with ‘ultraviolet light’, if ultraviolet light were a visible colour on the spectrum.  Like all of her kind, her hair was pale and platinum blond.  Unlike any other of her kind, her eyes were dark:  black on casual observation, deep purple to those who bothered to look closer, and almost too big for her face, which further enhanced her childlike qualities.

 

He tapped the screen he’d been reading to erase the text and set it aside, pushing his hair away from this face and chastising himself:  for researching her species before she’d been given a chance to tell him about herself.  For knowing _why_ her eyes were different from others of her kind.  For conducting the type of cyber-stalking he usually abhorred and lacking the courage to find out for himself how and why she fascinated him so thoroughly.

 

 

 

 **  
  
**

**  
_Breakfast_   
**

 

Eve pressed the heel of her hand against her nose as she entered the kitchen, trying not to gag. 

“I know,” the Doctor agreed, catching her eye.  “I feel the same way...”

 

“Oi!”  Amy snapped from the stove.  “My turn to cook, my choice of menu.”

 

“That bacon may be a tad overdone...” Rory suggested.

 

“I’m Scottish, I know how to fry stuff,” Amy retorted.  She tipped the bacon onto his plate and added more to the pan.

 

“The fruit is fresh,” the Doctor said, pushing a large wicker bowl towards Eve, who smiled gratefully and chose a pale purple apple-like specimen.

 

“Thank you,” she murmured.

 

“Did you sleep?”

 

“After a time.”  Half remembered fragments of a dream suddenly clarified and she fought to push them to the back of her mind. Eve shifted in her seat and suppressed a wince.  Her wings stirred, wanting to fan open, but she schooled them to stillness. _He can’t read your mind, he can’t read your mind, still your wings girl because he can’t. Read. Your. Mind._

 

“Good,” said the Doctor, looking distracted.  “That’s good.  That’s… good.”  He grimaced and pushed his hair out of his eyes.

 

“Exhibit B is someone who _didn’t_ get much sleep last night,” Rory joked.

 

“I don’t sleep.”

 

“What, not at all?” Amy asked, turning from the stove with a spatula in her hand.

 

“Well, I do sleep _occasionally_ ,” he allowed.  “But not that whole one-third-of-your-life business you… humans… seem to need.  Dreadful waste of time, sleep.”  He was careful not to look at Eve as he stumbled over the word ‘humans’.  “In fact, I think I’ll go have a little lie down right now.”  He bolted out of the kitchen.

 

Amy stared after him then turned to the others.  “Something I said?”  She asked, bewildered.

 

“Bit of an odd duck, that one,” Rory told Eve.  “You’ll get used to him.”

 

“What are those things like?”  Amy asked as Eve bit into the fruit.

 

Eve nodded, chewing.  “Like a peach,” she said once she’d swallowed.  “A crunchy peach with… hang on…” she poked two fingers between her lips and extracted a white seed.  She inspected it for a moment, then crushed it between her teeth.  “No, the seeds are edible too.  Probably a good source of protein.”

 

“I’m never sure about some of the alien stuff he brings back,” Amy said, tipping a serve of bacon onto her own plate. 

 

Eve eyed Amy’s breakfast as she dug in.  “But the charred flesh of even-toed ungulate served with a reproductive by-product of the domesticated jungle-fowl constitutes an acceptable meal?”  She asked.

 

“Wha…?”

 

“I _think_ she’s referring to your bacon and eggs,” Rory told her.

 

“Yes, _thank you_ , professor,” Amy snapped.  To Eve:  “don’t knock it til you’ve tried it.”

 

“I’d rather keep my digestive system intact, thank you all the same,” Eve said.

 

“Are you calling my cooking indigestible?”  Amy narrowed her eyes.

 

“No,” Eve said slowly.  “I’m sure _you_ find itdigestible.  I, however, would not.”  She was making a habit of offending the pretty redhead and had somehow done it again, although she not entirely sure how she’d done it, or how to repair the situation.

 

“So my cooking isn’t good enough for you?”

 

“Amy…” Rory started.

 

“It has nothing whatsoever to do with _your_ cooking or anyone else’s for that matter, I’m simply trying to explain that what I am currently eating is in no way inferior to what you have served yourself for breakfast, simply on the virtue that yours is terrestrial in origin and mine is not.”

 

“Rory, she’s doing it again,” Amy muttered.

 

Eve’s eyes flicked from one to the other.  She hadn’t repaired the situation, she realised.  She’d only made it worse.  “What am I doing again?”  She asked, her voice small.

 

“Oh, never mind,” Amy huffed.  She shovelled the bacon and eggs into her mouth, clearing her plate in three bites, and stalked out of the kitchen.

 

Eve turned to Rory.  “Is she an odd duck too?”  She asked.

 

“She can be,” he replied.  Chewing thoughtfully, he regarded her for a moment.  “What part of this…” he indicated his breakfast “… do you find indigestible?”

 

“All of it.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Heat has rendered the miniscule vitamin content inert, I lack the necessary enzymes to break down the complex protein chains, and my gut is ill-equipped to cope with the decomposing adipose tissue of other sentient life forms.”

 

“Oh-kay.”  Rory took another mouthful and watched Eve take another bite of the fruit.  Then it dawned on him.  “You’re vegan!”

 

“Well yes, that’s one way of looking at it.”

 

“Why didn’t you just tell Amy that?”

 

“She didn’t ask.  She simply assumed I was mocking her cooking skills and choice of cuisine.”

 

#          #          #

 

Eve turned down another corridor, tracing her fingers lightly along the walls as she went.  She hadn’t the slightest idea where she was in relation to the rest of the ship but she could have walked the route with her eyes closed... following her nose.

 

She stopped.  Through a doorway she could see an old-fashioned wingback chair.

 

As she stepped over the threshold, the chair spun around.

 

“The only one who knows how to find my study,” drawled the Doctor.  “Is me.”

 

“And me,” Eve answered.  She sank into another chair without being invited.

 

“You followed me.”

 

“I followed your _scent_ ,” she corrected.

 

“I don’t _have_ a scent.”

 

“You do to me.”

 

“There’s a perception filter hiding that door,” said the Doctor, lifting his chin towards the corridor as he changed the subject.

 

“There’s one hiding my wings too, but you still know they’re there.”

 

His lips twitched in a half smile.  “Touché.”

 

“Why did you bring me here?”  Eve asked.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Do you want me to leave?”

 

“This room?”  He asked.  “Or the TARDIS?”

 

“Either,” she replied.  “Both.”

 

“Yes,” he told her.  “And no.”

 

“Yes, and no,” she echoed.  Inclining her head in acquiescence, she rose to leave.

 

“Eve?”

 

She turned.

 

“When you need me, you can find me in here,” he told her.  “Otherwise... when I’m here... leave me be?”

 

“Of course.”

 

#          #          #

 

“ _My_ scent?” The Doctor muttered.  He leapt from the wing-back chair and began pacing the study.  “ _My_ scent, what about _her_ scent?”

 

#          #          #

 

She left the TARDIS anyway and walked a short distance.  The ship was perched on a headland, and she stood looking out over the sea, the frigid wind whipping her clothes and short cropped hair, blowing his scent from her nostrils and cobwebs from her mind.

 

“There you are!”   A voice called over the wind.  Eve didn’t turn as Amy approached.

 

They stood in awkward silence for a while, Amy shivering with cold and Eve seemingly impervious to it.

 

“I’m sorry, okay?”  Amy said at length. “I thought you were having a go at my cooking.  Rory explained it to me, I get it now... look, I feel like a nit.”  She produced a piece of the fruit from her pocket and offered it to Eve.  “These aren’t half bad actually,” she admitted, taking a bite from another.

 

“No, they’re not,” Eve agreed.

 

“Truce?”

 

“I’ll endeavour to curb my verbal peculiarities…” Eve started.  “I did it again, didn’t I?  I have no wish to antagonise you.”

 

“You sound just like the Doctor, and I’ve learned to ignore _him_ when he annoys me,” she said.

 

“Truce then.”  Eve nodded.

 

“So, do you have a family out there?”  Amy asked at length.

 

“No,” said Eve.  “Not anymore.”

 

“What happened to them?”

 

“They’re all gone,” Eve said, looking away.  “They all… died.”

 

“I’m sorry.  Do you want to talk about it?”

 

“I’d rather not.”

 

“I understand.  I had a rather confusing childhood myself… my parents disappeared into a crack in my bedroom wall and I forgot all about them until my wedding day when the Doctor brought them back…” she trailed off, realising Eve was staring at her.  “Yeah, bit hard to explain…”

 

Eve was beginning to nod though.  “The Doctor,” she murmured.  “Things… change around him.  The ebb and flow of the universe carries us along mindlessly, like a swollen river, but around _him_ … it changes course.”  She looked up at Amy.  “ _Your_ life has changed.  Rory’s.  Mine.”

 

“You’ve been with us barely a week,” Amy pointed out.

 

“And yet, the flow of my life is now bending to his influence.”

 

“Interesting way of looking at it.”

 

They were silent for a time.

 

“Rory is a good man,” Eve said eventually.

 

“Mmm, the best,” Amy nodded.  “He’s put up with so much from me.”

 

“He adores you.”

 

“He’s scared of me!”

 

Eve laughed.

 

“What about you then?”  Amy asked.  “No boyfriend left behind.”

 

“No boyfriend,” Eve agreed.

 

“Not anymore, or just no?”

 

“Just no.”

 

“Nobody at all.”  It was a statement rather than a question.  Eve shook her head, the action agreeing rather than disagreeing with Amy’s words.  “I’m sorry,” Amy said again.

 

“People keep saying that,” Eve observed.  “As though it were somehow their fault.”

 

“It’s a courtesy,” said Amy.

 

“It’s meaningless,” countered Eve.  “Unless they are in the same position.  And even so, being sorry doesn’t change the situation.”

 

“I’m…” Amy caught herself, cutting her eyes at Eve.  “I wish I could do something to help.  I can’t possibly understand what that’s like.  I hope I never have to find out and I wish it hadn’t happened to you.”  She paused.  “That’s what _‘I’m sorry’_ means.”

 

Eve nodded.  “Thank you for putting it into context,” she said.

 

“You’re welcome.”  Amy tugged her cardigan around her shivering.  “Now, will you come back inside, it’s freezing out here.”

 

Eve opened her mouth to protest that just because _Amy_ was cold, didn’t mean _she_ was, then closed it again.  The relative temperature and wind-chill factor wasn’t the point, she realised.  It was merely an excuse, another ‘courtesy’ to allow Eve to return without fear of losing face.

 

#          #          #

 

“Rory?”

 

“Mmm,” he murmured, not looking up from the medical journal he was reading.

 

“Do you remember that boy we went to school with in Leadworth?  The weird one?”

 

“You’re going to have to narrow it down…”

 

“Oh, you know, that kid with no friends.  He was a genius or something but he didn’t seem to understand social conventions like sarcasm… or personal space.”  Amy shuddered at the memory.

 

Rory looked up, frowning.  “Bernie,” he said, plucking the name from his memory banks.  “Bernie Oxford.  Yeah, I remember him.  I think he was diagnosed with Asperger Syndrome.”

 

“Does Eve remind you of him?  Just a little?”  Amy suggested.

 

“Does Eve remind me of Bernie Oxford?!”

 

“You know, not the weird creepy part.  The genius, talks like a professor, doesn’t understand social niceties part.”

 

“I suppose…” Rory put down the journal.  “You think Eve has Aspergers?”

 

“It would explain a few things.”

 

“She doesn’t flap her hands, or twitch or anything like that,” said Rory.

 

“Well, no…”

 

“She doesn’t count things, she’s not scared of certain colours, she doesn’t go on and on about subjects of no interest to other people.”

 

“I guess…”

 

“She talks to the Doctor on his level, understands irony and is extremely articulate…”

 

“Yes, but…”

 

“So, she’s probably just one of these super-bright kids intimidated by the brash redheaded bombshell that’s always in her face…” he raised an eyebrow at Amy, then buried himself in his journal again.  “God knows _I_ am,” he muttered.

 

 

 

 

 **  
_Nightwandering_   
**

_For reasons she could not recall, she found herself in the study again.  Like the library, the walls were lined with books, the fittings and furnishings were sumptuous and tasteful, and the room smelled of rich leather, old fashioned tobacco, and comfort.  There was a desk, a blotter, a green lozenge-shaped desk lamp, and in the corner, a tasselled standard lamp cast a warm orange glow on an occasional table holding an ancient gramophone._

 _The floors looked like, but may or may not have been made of, polished cedar.  A small Persian rug was set in the centre of the floor, more aesthetically pleasing than having any real function, and the leather chesterfields looked squashy and comfortable – just right for curling up with one of the bound tomes from the shelves.  Chinchilla throw rugs were draped here and there to draw over oneself if one should become chilly while reading._

 _For reasons also unexplained, she was naked.  Behind the desk, he was not, but as she watched he removed his jacket never taking his eyes from her face, and the rest of his clothes seemed to melt along with it.  In the blink of an eye he was beside her, his long fingers brushing her shoulders._

 _She swallowed and shuddered under his touch, engulfing them both in the scent of fresh flowers and aged spices.  From a point just above her shoulder-blades grew deep purple spines which, when fanned, revealed delicate membranous wings of a pale iridescent colour somewhere between blue and purple, not quite indigo, or lilac, or lavender, or any other earthly colour._

 _She turned, and his grey-green eyes burned into hers.  His full lips curved into a lascivious smile, and he spoke:_

 _“It’s probably a good thing I can’t read your mind yet.  Dreams such as these could make your waking hours awkward...”_

 

Eve sat up in bed, panting, and stared all around her.  _My room._   She gathered the sheets around her anyway, forcing her wings against her back.  _Not his study.  My room._

 

Eve’s quarters inside the TARDIS were cosy and nest-like.  Over time, the ship had developed the space in pastel colours that complimented her wings, and the plush furnishings she favoured.  Wing hue was an important marker to her kind and while her personal colour was not unique, it was by no means common.  Her people’s colouring was soft and pastel and in all cases except Eve’s, the eye colour exactly matched the wings, be it pastel blue, or soft sea green, pale baby pink or even fluffy lemon yellow.  The wing and eye colour also reflected an individual’s aura – something not visible to human eyes but a phenomenon Eve had long taken for granted.

 

Climbing out of bed and covering herself with an oversized silk robe, she drifted around the room, touching each item in turn to reassure herself of their solidity.  The pearly lavender-coloured walls didn’t swim, or change before her eyes.  The fuzzy carpeting beneath her bare feet remained soft and pliable.  The cushions and mink-like blankets which made up her preferred bedding were constant.

 

Satisfied that she was no longer dreaming, she sank onto her bed and cradled her head in her hands.

 

“What is wrong with me?”  She moaned.

 

A shimmering fragment detached itself from one wing and floated down onto her bedding.

 

Millions of light-years from a home that no longer existed, with none of her kind still alive to explain the process, Eve had no way of knowing she had entered the final phase of physical maturity.

 

 

 

 

 **  
_Moulting_   
**

 

It was shopping day, and Eve looked up as the Doctor clomped out of the wardrobe room, his footsteps exaggerated and drawing attention to his new footwear.

 

“Those look like something out of ‘Back to the Future’,” Eve commented.

 

“Nike Hyperdunk Supremes!  I love the 1980’s!”  Enthused the Doctor, hitching up the legs of his trousers to get a better look at his tennis shoes.

 

“ _Decade of shame_ , if memory serves…”

 

“Hyperdunks are cool,” he told her.

 

“They’re _not_ cool.”

 

“These are quite possibly the coolest shoes in the universe,” he went on as though he hadn’t heard her.  “And I’ve seen a lot of shoes.”

 

“Hmm,” she said.  “Except that they’re not.”

 

“Not what?”

 

“Not cool.”

 

“They are!  They’re so cool they’re _sexy_!”

 

“The only way you could make _those_ sexy is if you took them off.”  _Along with the rest of your clothes._ Eve bit her lip.  _What is *wrong* with me?!_

 

“Oh pffft,” he said, blowing a raspberry at her.

 

She smiled and scratched surreptitiously at her shoulder.

 

“Anyway,” he went on, bounding up the steps to the console.  “You need to have a look at the new security protocol, why are you never around when I explain these things?”

 

“Mmm,” said Eve, following him but not really listening.

 

“I’ve put the kybosh on the voice-lock – too easy to misuse, I’m trialling body contour technology... but you have to stand completely still, you can’t go jigging about like you’re at a disco... do people still go to discos?  Anyway...”

 

The sound of his voice faded as she watched him shimmy about in front of the console, removing his coat to demonstrate the new technology.

 

 _And the tie_ , Eve mused.  _Then the braces, the buttons on the shirt, the fly..._

“And it won’t work for anyone but you lot,” he finished, turning around with a flourish.  “Eve?  Eve, are you even listening to me?”

 

“Hmm?”  Eve murmured, separating herself from the daydream with difficulty.  “Listening, sure, got it all.”

 

“Okay,” he said.  “Well, you shouldn’t need to use it anyway, just sit tight until I get back... or do you want to come with?”  He held up a ridiculously prissy old-lady shopping bag.

 

“Nope.  Sitting tight,” she told him.

 

The Doctor eyed her for a moment and then shrugged.  “Suit yourself,” he said, dashing back down the steps and out the door.

 

#          #          #

 

“Eve Riley,” said Eve, enunciating carefully.  The screen remained black.  “Come on you stupid thing, _Eve Riley_...  oh that’s right...”

 

“It doesn’t work on voice recognition anymore,” said Rory, padding barefoot into the control room from the wardrobe wearing board-shorts and carrying a towel.

 

“Yeah, he told me,” Eve answered, standing still for the computer to scan her image.  “I wasn’t really listening though, I was too busy...” she trailed off, blushing.  “Well, never mind what I was too busy doing.”

 

“Too busy undressing him with your eyes?” Amy suggested, slinging one arm over Rory’s shoulders, arching one eyebrow in Eve’s direction and puckering her lips suggestively.

 

Eve’s blush deepened.

 

“He’s clueless,” Amy went on, checking her always-perfect nails casually.  Her tone was kind but her words stung.  “He doesn’t see us that way.  Humans, I mean.”  She started up another staircase, adjusting one strap of her bronze bikini as she went.  “Coming Rory?”

 

“Be there in a minute,” said Rory.

 

“Don’t be too lo-ong,” she sing-songed.  “Water waits for no-one...”

 

Rory’s grin was lopsided as he watched his wife disappear.  He glanced at Eve’s bowed head.  “She’s wrong, you know.”

 

“About the water?”

 

“About _him_.”  Rory looked over at the now-empty staircase and crossed the control room to sit next to Eve.  “Amy thinks any man immune to her charms must be completely asexual!  Or at the very least gay.”

 

“The Doctor loves Amy.”

 

“The Doctor still sees little Amelia Pond as an orphaned 7 year old girl dressed in her nightie!”  Rory rolled his eyes “But... just because he doesn’t see _Amy_ that way, doesn’t mean he’s immune to... somebody else...”

 

Eve looked up sharply.  “Has he said something to you?

 

“No,” Rory told her, getting up.  “But think about it.  A man of his experience, with his knowledge of all the worlds he’s travelled to, with an IQ of... what did you say?”

 

“400,” Eve murmured.

 

“400, right.  A 900 year old bloke with the brain the size of a planet, and a personality to match, is not ‘clueless’.  Nor is he asexual.”

 

“He still might be gay.”

 

“He thinks ‘Air McFly’ tennis shoes are sexy, bow-ties are cool and he dresses like a sixty year old college professor.”  Rory pointed out.

 

Eve giggled.  “Good point.”

 

#          #          #

 

“Have you not moved since I left?”  The Doctor asked, brushing snow out of his hair and setting the heavily laden shopping-bag on the floor.  Eve smiled wanly at him.  “Are you okay?”

 

“Yes... no... I don’t know,” she shrugged.  “Just moulting – you know.”

 

“Moulting, yes, I know.”  He said.  “Actually, sorry, no, I don’t know.”  He gave an embarrassed grin as though he’d failed some sort of etiquette test.  “Is it painful?”

 

“Not in the way you imagine,” she told him.  Eve turned her back to him and the skeletal remains of her wings lifted away from her skin.  Fragments of webbing, dried out and fragile as rice-paper, sifted to the floor, surrounding her in an arid snow-drift of used up and worn out tissue.  “Disgusting, huh?”

 

“I don’t think it’s disgusting,” he told her, pressing the pad of one finger against the detritus on the floor and grinding it to a shimmering powder against the pad of his thumb.  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

 

Eve shuddered delicately and suppressed a smile.  _There is *one* thing you can do... oh, stop it stop it, don’t even go there..._ “I know you didn’t intend that to be a loaded question...” she murmured.  “Not really,” she answered his puzzled expression.  “It was itching like crazy a few days ago, and it’ll be worse when the new webbing starts growing in...” she looked up and smiled.  “I’ll be like a bear with a sore head for a few days but perhaps you can confine me to quarters so I don’t make your life too miserable.”

 

He smiled back and her stomach did a lazy flip-flop.  “I don’t think it’ll come to that,” he said.  “Although, if you let Amy and Rory in on the secret it’ll be that much easier...”

 

“No,” Eve said firmly.  “She’ll just get excited and start asking all sorts of irritating questions about my home and feeding habits and, I don’t know, the mating rituals of my race or something...” she shook her head.  “No, I can’t deal with it right now, easier if they just think I’m human.”

 

“She’s not _that_ bad,” the Doctor said gently.

 

“I know,” Eve admitted.  “And Rory is lovely.  It’s just that she treats me like I’m her baby sister or something!  For crying out loud, I’ve got 200 years on her and about as many IQ points, you’d think it’d be the other way around!”

 

“All the more reason to tell her...”

 

“I said no.”

 

The Doctor held up his hands.  “Okay, okay.”  Then:  “Where are the love-birds anyway?”

 

“In the pool,” Eve told him, relieved to have a change of subject.  “I think Amy was wearing Bo Derek’s bikini.”

 

“Honestly, the things women leave in my wardrobe…” The Doctor grimaced.  “And unless you want to learn about the mating rituals of the _human_ race, I suggest you stay away for the time being!”

 

“Urgh,” said Eve, her expression mirrored his.  “Thanks for the tip.”  Absently, she pulled one wing over her shoulder and ran her hand along the length of it.  Another snow-fall of dried membrane sifted to the floor, and the Doctor cocked his head to the side, thinking.

 

“There might be something in the bathroom for that... hang about!”  He dashed off and returned a few minutes later wearing fuzzy bright pink gloves and grinning from ear to ear.

 

“What the devil are they?”  Eve exclaimed.

 

“Loofa gloves!”  He said, holding he hands up proudly.  “I lovely lady from Colchester called Sophie introduced me to loofa gloves, wonderful for exfoliation.  May I?”  He wrapped his gloved hand around the base of one wing close to her shoulder and dragged the spindly remains through a loose fist, showering the glass floor surrounding the console with pale lilac sparkles.  He repeated the process along every spine, carefully working around each joint to remove the last of the old webbing, occasionally stepping back and clapping his hands together as though to remove dust.

 

When he finished, Eve stretched the naked spines until they stood out like a star around her body.

 

“Now, doesn’t that feel better?  I always feel better after a good scrub!”  The Doctor grinned at his own cleverness and she smiled back, refolding the spines against her back where they lay, nearly invisible to the naked eye.  She hunkered down next to him as he sifted the powdery remains of her old wings through his fingers.  “Extraordinary,” he murmured, turning his hands in the light so the faceted fragments caught the light.  “It’s beautiful.”

 

“You should see them when they’re new,” she told him.  “You caught me at my lowest ebb, beauty-wise.”

 

“Do you mind if I...?”  He indicated his instruments and the powdery residue on his hands.

 

“Of course,” she murmured, then watched him hurry away to analyse the crystalline structure.

 

Gently, he tipped the shimmery fragments onto a tray, stripped off the fuzzy loofa-gloves and tapped at the keyboard.  He adjusted a dial, frowned, bent over the machine and whacked it sharply with the heel of his hand, then smiled as an image appeared on the screen, surrounded by data.

 

Eva watched his face throughout the process:  his brow furrowed in concentration, the fall of his hair as he peered at the screen, the irritated _moue_ then cheeky close-lipped smile when the machine finally began to behave.

 

“Oh, _you_ are _beautiful_ ,” he breathed.  He turned to Eve, his eyes shining.  “Come and see!”

 

Eve caught her breath as she stepped up to the console.  Magnified on the screen was an iridescent jewel which threw the full spectrum of colours in all directions and glowed with luminescent violet warmth at its centre.  She turned to catch the Doctor gazing raptly into her face, ignoring the screen entirely.

 

“If this is you at your lowest,” he whispered, “I can’t wait to see you at your best.”

 

“Woah, what is this stuff, body glitter?” Amy exclaimed.  The Doctor took a step backwards and cleared his throat, tapping at the keyboard.  The magnified jewel on the screen vanished.  “Did you find this in the wardrobe room, Eve?  I could have used this stuff for my wedding!”

 **  
  
**

**  
  
**

**  
  
**

**  
  
**

**  
_Renewal_   
**

**  
  
**

A week or so later, Eve began stalking around the TARDIS, glaring at everyone and answering questions in monosyllabic snarls.  She sulked in the control room while the others explored a lush forest-world inhabited by adorable feline marsupials and couldn’t be coaxed out.  She refused to help Amy with her weekly manicure or play scrabble with Rory, and rolled her eyes at the Doctor when he suggested a lesson on flying the TARDIS.

 

She ate all the vegetable matter she could lay her hands on and became grumpy when they ran out of fruit, insisting the Doctor find a market to purchase more.  She moved furniture incessantly and became enraged when questioned.  She reorganised the Doctor’s collection of manual household appliances and responded with stony silence when he couldn’t find an egg-whisk and became exasperated with her.

 

“Eve, remember when we talked about confining you to your quarters and I said it wouldn’t come to that?”  The Doctor asked her, his tone carefully neutral.  Eve nodded tersely.  “It’s come to that.”

 

Eve set her jaw, opened her mouth, and closed it again.  Then she turned on her heel with a swirl of the cape she’d taken to wearing and disappeared down a corridor.

 

“Phew!”  Rory sighed, wiping his brow theatrically.  “Moo- _dy_!”

 

“Moody,” Amy echoed, thoughtfully.  She smacked her forehead.  “Of course, I know what’s going on!”

 

“You do?”  The Doctor looked startled.

 

“Of course I do, I’m a woman,” she said primly.

 

“Care to share?”  Asked Rory.

 

“I’ll give you a hint,” she said.  “What happens to me approximately every 4 weeks and has you ducking for cover, making me cups of tea, plying me with ibuprofen and being extra super-duper nice to me?”

 

“Umm,” Rory thought for a moment, and then paled.  “Oh.”

 

“Yeah,” Amy said, heading for the kitchen.

 

“Ew.”

 

“What?”  The Doctor wanted to know.

 

“You know,” Amy said.  She opened the cupboard in search of chocolate chip cookies.

 

“That time of the month...” Rory prompted him, making an embarrassed gesture with his hand and grimacing.

 

“Yes, that time of the month,” the Doctor nodded.  “Nope, sorry, not following you.”

 

Amy groaned.  “Are you always this clueless when it comes to women... forget it, look who I’m talking to,” she rolled her eyes and checked the cooler for icecream.  “She’s having a visit from Aunt Flo...”

 

“Painters and decorators are in...” Rory put in.

 

“Moon time...”

 

“Experiencing technical difficulties...”

 

“Her cup of joy is overflowing...”

 

“Hey, that’s a good one!”  Rory exclaimed.

 

“Hang on, sorry...” the Doctor held up a hand.  “Are you implying that she’s menstru...”

 

“Argghhhh,” Rory clapped his hands over his ears.  “La la la la la, I can’t hear you...”

 

“Oh grow up, call yourself a health care professional?!”  Amy scooped up all the comfort food she’d found.  “Of course she is,” she said to the Doctor.  “Probably her first time too, poor love, no mum to explain the facts of life.”  She smiled.  “Well, I’ll just have to step in as Big Sister.”

 

Amy flounced out of the door, pleased with herself.

 

“She’s not going to eat any of those things,” the Doctor told Rory.

 

Amy returned ten minutes later, looking cross.  “Talk about ungrateful,” she huffed, throwing cookies back into the cupboard.

 

The Doctor suppressed a smile.  “Might want to leave her alone for a day... or five,” he suggested.

 

“You think?”  Amy snapped.

 

 

 

 

 **  
_New Wings_   
**

 

The Doctor glanced at the local calendar readout on the console.

 

“Five days,” he murmured.  “That should be long enough.”

 

He collected a number of things from the multi-level wardrobe room, took a short-cut through the library, along a corridor, down another flight of steps and approached Eve’s quarters to knock softly on her door.

 

“Come in.”

 

He cracked the door and peered inside.  Eve stepped out of the shadows wearing her oversized silk robe. 

 

“How are you feeling?”  He asked her.

 

“All finished,” she said.  She glanced around.  “There isn’t enough room in here to show you...”

 

“I know,” he said.  “ _And_ you’ll want to wash.”  He held up a couple of beach towels.  “Fancy a swim?”

 

Eve laughed.  “You’ve been doing your research!”

 

The pool was vast and lagoon-like, dimly lit beneath the water by phosphorescent corals.  Reflections rippled on the vaulted ceiling and the sound of running water gave the impression of a gorgeous subterranean pond rather than a Gallifreyan-grown swimming pool.

 

Eve tugged at the belt of her robe and glanced at her companion.  His back was turned and he whistled softly as he appeared to study the walls of the cavernous room.

 

 _Such a gentleman..._  In one smooth movement she shed her robe and dove into the crystal clear water.  Spinning and unfurling her wings, her movement shed the new membranes clean of their growth mucous layer.  Flipping onto her stomach, she kicked her strong legs and strove for the deepest part of the pool.  After a hundred metres she gave up, turned over and kicked toward the air, breaking the surface then diving once again, like a dolphin.  She surfaced once more, laughing and shaking her head, sending droplets of water flying from the ends of her short silvery hair.

 

From the edge of the water she heard an answering peal of laughter and turned around to see the Doctor’s bare bottom and legs disappearing beneath the surface.

 

“Bet you can’t swim as well as me,” she murmured, diving beneath the water again.  Using her wings to supplement her legs, she propelled herself though the water toward him, looping around his body twice before a flick of her wing sent her away, faster than the Time Lord was capable of following her.

 

Surfacing again, she flipped onto her back and kicked lazily back to the Doctor, turning over to tread water when she was still a good ten metres away.

 

“Better?”  He asked, grinning at her.

 

“ _Much_ better,” she said, returning his smile.

 

“How many times have you had to go through that?”

 

“That was my fourth cycle,” she told him.  “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

 

He shrugged.

 

“Hmph.”  She grumped.  “Why bother asking me anything if you’ve already done all your ‘research’?”

 

“I wouldn’t _need_ to research if you divulged personal information from time to time.”

 

“What do you want to know?”

 

“Umm.”  The Doctor looked stumped for a moment.  “What’s your favourite colour?”

 

“Purple.”

 

“Figures.”

 

“You can do better than that.”

 

“Did you take those Ibuprofen pills Amy gave you?”  He asked at length.  Eve raised an eyebrow and he shook his head.  “I didn’t think so.”

 

“Would you?”

 

“Not even if you paid me!”

 

Eve laughed, and a peculiar trick of acoustics seemed to send the sound back to her.  Then she realised the laughter wasn’t her own, and that they would shortly be joined in the pool.  She plunged beneath the water and resurfaced within an arms length of the Doctor.

 

Giggling, Amy darted into the pool’s cavernous room, followed by Rory.  He caught his young wife and spun her around, silencing her laughter with a kiss and tugging at the strings of yet another one of Bo Derek’s swimsuits.

 

Eve shot a look at the Doctor, who cleared his throat.

 

“Oh!”  Squeaked Amy, retying her bikini top.  “Well!  I didn’t realise the pool was in use!”

 

“We weren’t using it in the manner for which _you_ intended,” the Doctor said drily.  He started toward the edge at a slow and leisurely crawl, then pulled up short as Eve ducked under the water and came up in front of him.  He regarded her for a moment.  “Are you sure?”  He asked her.

 

Eve nodded.

 

Slowly, so as not to startle the humans, Eve walked out of the water.  Shuddering all over to dry herself, she unfurled her clean new wings to their full extent.  The membranes thrummed and dried quickly to a luminous glossy sheen, and she folded the wings against her back as she reached for her robe.

 

Gaping, Amy and Rory didn’t notice the Doctor as he exited the water and wrapped a towel around his slim hips.

 

“You’re... you’re a fairy!”  Amy gasped.

 

Eve nodded.  “For all intents and purposes,” she agreed.

 

“You’ve got...”  Amy flapped her arms.  “And you don’t have...” she cupped her own breasts.

 

“Yes,” said Eve.  “And no.”

 

“You’re _not_ human,” Rory said at last.

 

“No.”

 

Amy rounded on the Doctor, who was rubbing his hair with the other towel.  “Did you know?  All this time?”

 

“She’s not dangerous, Amy,” he told her.

 

“Of course she’s not flipping dangerous!”  Amy said, her voice bordering on hysterical.  “She’s a fairy!  Look at her!  I could break her in half!”

 

“Actually, _I_ could probably break _you_ in half...” Eve trailed off as she saw Rory’s eyes widen.  “Umm, not the point though, I won’t hurt you.  I’ve lived among humans as long as I can remember...”

 

“How long’s that, then?!”

 

“About... a hundred years.”

 

“A hundred years...”

 

“I haven’t been menstruating this week, Amy, I’ve been moulting.  It’s something that happens to my kind.  Our wings disintegrate and we grow new ones... like roe deer with horns?  Yeah?”

 

“Okay,” Amy said weakly.

 

“Come on, I’ll bring you up to speed,” said the Doctor, gesturing towards the door.

 

“Might want to, you know, put some clothes on first, mate.”  Said Rory.

 

The Doctor glanced down at himself.  “Right.”

 

“Can I... see them again?  Your wings I mean?”  Amy asked.

 

“Of course.”

 

Eve unfurled her wings again just enough for Amy to inspect the membranes of the webbing.

“Such a beautiful colour,” Amy murmured.

 

“You knew,” said Rory, addressing the Doctor.

 

“Of course I knew,” he retorted.  He’d pulled his trousers back on and was in the process of buttoning his shirt.  “She doesn’t even _smell_ human!”

 

Amy lifted her head as though scenting the air.  Eve laughed softly and looked at Rory, who was doing the same thing.  The humans glanced at one another and shrugged.

 

Eve fluttered her wings.  “Doctor?”

 

“Vanilla and... something like cinnamon,” he said.  He grimaced and shook his head as though to clear it.

 

Amy glanced at the wings again.  “Can you fly?”

 

Eve laughed, louder this time.  “I doubt it!”

 

“Can you try...?”

 

“Okay, no flying in the TARDIS,” the Doctor cut in.  “Why don’t we continue parliament question time somewhere other than the pool ... and clothed.”

 

#          #          #

 

At the console, Eve took Amy and Rory through the star charts, pointing out what was left of her home, and the Doctor showed them some of the basic information about her race.

 

“So, you’re an alien,” Rory said.  “Not a fairy.”

 

“Not a fairy,” Eve agreed.  “Terrestrial fairies can be dangerous if you interfere with...” she trailed off, noting their expressions.  “Anyway, yes, alien to Earth.”

 

“Were you born with wings?”  Rory asked.

 

“Hatched...”

 

“Sorry?”

 

“Females of my species are _hatched_ with wings.  Males are not.”

 

“Not hatched or not winged?”

 

Eve laughed.  “Not winged!  We’re all hatched.”

 

“Like... from an egg?”  Amy asked.

 

“My kind... uh... couple for recreational purposes, like humans do, and our eggs are fertilised in the same way but they’re only released when conditions are conducive to life.  When there is ample food and warmth, a female will release one fertilised egg and watch over it until it hatches.”

 

“Weird,” Amy murmured.

 

“Because incubating and birthing live young _isn’t_ weird?”  Eve shot back.

 

Amy grimaced and pressed a palm against her belly.  “Good point.”

 

“And you aren’t mammals?”  Rory glanced at Eve’s flat chest.

 

“Our offspring are purely vegan and eat the same as our adults, straight out of the egg.”

 

“Do _you_ have any offspring?”

 

“I was a child when my world was destroyed,” Eve said quietly.  “I haven’t had the... opportunity to reproduce.”

 

They were silent for a while.

 

“Wow,” Amy said.  “Just... wow.  You’re an alien... who looks like a fairy.”

 

Eve spread her arms wide as if to say ‘take it or leave it.’

 

“If you always had wings, why did we never notice them?”  Rory asked.

 

“Biological perception filter,” the Doctor told them.  “Purely organic.  But why?  I mean, I can understand why _you’d_ need one to blend in on Earth, but why would your _species_ need biological perception filters to hide your wings?”

 

Eve shook her head slowly.  “I... I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve never thought about it before.”

 

“Never mind,” he said, dismissing the topic.  “I’m sure I’ll figure it out eventually.”

 

“So, do you have any gnarly powers?”  Amy asked, wiggling her fingers at Eve.

 

Eve laughed.  “I have one,” she said, noting the Doctor’s startled expression from the corner of her eye.  He’d anticipated every answer she’d given, except this one.

 

“What is it?”  Amy asked, clearly intrigued.

 

Eve studied each of them carefully in turn.  Her eyes settled on the Doctor.  “Do you trust me?”  She asked him.

 

“Strangely... yes,” he answered.

 

“Do you have a scalpel?”

 

“What are you going to do, remove my appendix?”  He asked.  His mouth laughed but his eyes were serious.

 

“You don’t _have_ an appendix,” Eve countered.

 

The Doctor blinked, impressed in spite of himself.  “And you get shirty with _me_ for doing research,” he muttered.  “Okay, I’ll bite...”  He rummaged through the compartments under the console until he came up with the medical implement she’d requested, and handed it to her.

 

Holding the scalpel between her teeth, Eve rolled one of the Doctor’s sleeves up to the elbow and turned his wrist gently to expose the pale underside of his arm.  In one smooth movement, she took the scalpel with her free hand and slashed at the bare skin.

 

Amy gasped.

 

“Bloody hell...” Rory whispered.

 

“That hurt,” the Doctor told Eve.  He was no longer smiling.

 

“Don’t be a such a baby,” she admonished, smiling slightly.  She covered the oozing wound with one hand, and closed her eyes.

 

The Doctor, his arm stinging painfully, watched Eve’s face.  From the corner of his eye he caught a brief pulse of lilac light.  He looked down at his arm to see Eve wiping orange blood from smooth skin.

 

Eve relinquished the arm as he snatched it away, rubbing his thumb over the skin looking for a scar.  Amy grabbed his arm and examined the skin too.

 

“You’re a Healer!”

 

“That’s a gnarly power alright,” said Amy.

 

“You could revolutionise modern medicine!”  Rory exclaimed.  “Has a doctor ever seen you do that?”

 

“ _I’m_ a doctor,” the Doctor reminded him.

 

“He means a _real_ doctor...”  said Amy.

 

“You just assume I’m not a _real_ doctor...”

 

They bickered and joked for a while longer, then Eve slashed and Healed Amy and Rory in turn, then herself to demonstrate the extent of the ability.  Rory marvelled at the difference in blood colour between species and took samples.

 

“Incredible,” Amy breathed, watching Eve’s blood flow into the syringe.  “Such an incredible colour.”  She plucked a filled vial from the kidney dish and held it up to the light.  Eve’s blood threw shards of light back to the eye and resembled deep purple metallic paint.

 

“It’d look awesome as the paint job on a Mustang,” Rory commented.

 

The Doctor’s blood was a deep burnt-orange colour.  Amy held a vial up to the light, too.

 

“And this would look good as the paint job in a 1970’s bathroom,” she said.

 

“Hilarious,” the Doctor muttered, pressing a cotton pad into the crook of his elbow and holding the arm over his head.  “Because _red_ blood is so special and all...”

 

“Don’t suppose you have a scanning electron microscope?”  Rory asked.

 

“Somewhere... try the library,” the Doctor suggested.

 

Eve’s eyes fluttered closed and she slumped in her chair.

 

“Uh-oh, careful there fairy, okay there you go,” the Doctor sat her up and looked into her face.  “ _You_ need some rest; you’ve overdone this superhero thing a tad, haven’t you?”

 

“Oooh, somebody’s all tuckered out and up waaaaay past their bedtime,” Amy teased.

 

“Stupid... human...” Eve murmured groggily.

 

“Yes, stupid humans, say good night to the stupid humans,” the Doctor said, standing her up.  Her knees buckled.  “Woah there, okay, upsy daisy...” he scooped her into his arms and he head lolled and came to rest against his shoulder.

 

“Anything else you’ve been hiding from me?”  The Doctor asked as he carried Eve to her quarters.

 

“Don’t know,” she murmured.

 

“So we could be in for a few more surprises.”  He leaned a shoulder against Eve’s door to open it.

 

“Try research,” she whispered, almost asleep again.

 

The Doctor laughed softly.  “You’d be surprised how little information there is about your kind,” he said, laying her gently in her sleeping place and tucking the minky blankets around her.  Without realising he was about to do it, he leaned down and pressed his lips to her pale forehead.  “Good night, Eve.”

 

“Good night s...”

 

The Doctor blinked, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.  “What did you say?”  He whispered.  “Eve?”

 

But Eve was asleep, her mind and body exhausted from growing, and Healing, and too many questions.

 

 **  
  
**

**  
  
**

**  
  
**

**  
_Great Southern Land_   
**

 

A nature hike seemed like such a good idea.

 

“I wouldn’t mind seeing Australia,” Rory had said.

 

“Why, got some transported relatives there?”  Amy had teased.

 

“Knock it off, you two...”  The Doctor threw a switch and the ship lurched until Eve staggered across the floor and banged her fist onto the blue stabiliser.

 

“If you just remembered to use this...” she had muttered.  The lurching stopped as the TARDIS levelled out, groaned asthmatically for ten seconds, then quietened.

 

The hot northerly wind had assaulted them as soon as the Doctor opened the doors, and he eyed his companions doubtfully.

 

"Are you sure about this?"  He asked.  “We’re none of us built for this climate.”  He took in Eve’s pale skin:   “ _You’re_ practically translucent...” he looked at Amy “... _you’re_ ginger...” he frowned at Rory “... and _you’re_ , well, pasty!”

 

 

“Only _you_ could make ‘pasty’ sound worse than ‘ginger’,” Rory grumbled in response.

 

The Doctor shrugged.  “Your funerals,” he said.  “Come along, Pond... Williams... Riley... look, this is getting ridiculous, could you two just change your surnames to Pond?  That’d make it ever so much easier for me...”

 

Once inside the gorge the temperature had dropped and Rory’s idea seemed less and less misbegotten... until Amy stumbled.

 

“Careful,” the Doctor had admonished her.

 

“Sorry, I’m fine, Rory I’m _fine_ ,” she insisted, shaking off his hand.  She winced when he wasn’t looking and disguised her limp as best she could.  Ten minutes later, however, she was whimpering in pain.

 

“You’re _not_ fine,” the Doctor told her.  “Sit down before you make it worse.”  With one arm each around Rory’s and the Doctor’s shoulders, she hobbled over to a fallen tree and plonked down gracelessly.

 

“Don’t take her boot off,” Rory warned, earning a scathing look from the Doctor.

 

The Doctor scanned Amy’s ankle with the sonic and flipped it open.  “Broken,” he murmured, and Amy groaned.  “Not badly though... Eve!”  He called, turning around and startling when he realised she was directly behind him.  “Don’t _do_ that!”

 

“Let me see,” Eve murmured.  She began unlacing Amy’s hiking boot and looked up questioningly as Rory stilled her hands with his own.  “I can’t do anything unless I have access to bare skin,” she told him.

 

“The joint is already beginning to swell,” he countered, pulling the sock aside to reveal the shiny skin.

 

“You’re right, I can’t Heal the body’s natural defences...”

 

“Only the break itself, right?”  The Doctor cut in.

 

“Right.”

 

“RICE.”  Rory said.

 

“Come again?”

 

“Rest.  Ice.  Compression.  Elevation.”  He scooped Amy up and began carrying her.

 

“The TARDIS is back that way!”  The Doctor called, pointing in the opposite direction.

 

“The town is closer,” Rory called back.

 

Eve squinted at the town in the distance, then back the way they’d come.  “The town _is_ closer,” she confirmed, following Rory.

 

The Doctor threw up his hands in exasperation and followed the others.

 

Out on the plain, baking in the midday sun unsheltered by tree or gorge, the town was quiet except for the combined hum of numerous air-conditioning units.  A single main street was dissected twice by parallel secondary streets.

 

“Hospital?”  Rory panted.

 

“Not in a town this size,” the Doctor answered.  He gazed at each house in turn, cocking his head to one side.  “Listen,” he said.

 

“All I hear is air-conditioners...”  Amy said.

 

“Shhh.”  The Doctor held one finger to his lips.  “Listen... this way.”  He started up one of the secondary streets and stopped before one of the houses.  “What’s wrong with this picture?”  He murmured.

 

“It’s stinking hot, we have an injured woman, and we’re following _you_ around on a tour of Woop Woop?”  Rory suggested.

 

“It’s stinking hot,” the Doctor agreed.  “It is, in fact...” he pointed the sonic straight up in the air, then checked the read-out “43 degrees centigrade in the shade.  Every house has an air-conditioner running at full pelt... except this one.”  He started down the garden path to the front door.

 

“So naturally, we go to the house with no air-conditioning,” Rory groaned, following him.

 

“Hello!”  The Doctor exclaimed, flashing a charming smile as the occupant of the house opened the front door. 

 

“Oh, thank goodness you’re here, I was beginning to think I’d have to stew in my own juices!”  A scrawny elderly woman with nut-brown skin dragged him into the dark house. 

 

“Sorry, were you expecting someone?” the Doctor asked.

 

“Well, yes, you’re Dave’s mates aren’t you?  Here to fix my air-conditioning?”

 

“Dave’s mates, right!”  The Doctor said brightly.  “Good old Dave, eh?”

 

“I have to say, I’m pleasantly surprised,” the woman went on, leading them down a dark hallway.  “My grandson usually sends some awful rough lad who hasn’t a clue what he’s doing, not such well-dressed young people... are you okay, love?”  She directed her last question at Amy.

 

“Twisted my ankle,” Amy managed.

 

“I’ll get some ice, you sit yourself down right here...” she bustled off to an unseen kitchen and Rory helped Amy over to the couch.  He eased the boot off Amy’s ankle and peeled off her sock.

 

“Bloody hell, you’ve done a number on that!”  The woman exclaimed, returning to the sitting room.  She handed a blue ice-pack wrapped in a clean tea towel to Rory, who wrapped it around Amy’s swollen ankle.

 

“I’m the Doctor, by the way.  The injured one is Amy, that’s Rory, and this is Eve...”

 

“Oh, how rude of me, sorry, Dave says I’m losing my manners along with my marbles!”  The old woman cackled.  “Name’s Thelma but you can just call me Nan, everybody does!”

 

“Did you want me to take a look at your air-conditioning, Nan?”  The Doctor asked.

 

“Right over there,” Nan pointed to the unit set into the far wall.  “Stupid thing went on the fritz three days ago.  I wanted to call someone but Dave says ‘don’t worry, Nan, I’ve got a mate who fixes those things’!  And blow me down if I didn’t call him this morning and he’s plum forgotten about it!”

 

“Well, I’m here now,” said the Doctor.  He removed the outer casing and waited until Nan directed her attention to Amy before pointing the sonic at the inner workings.  “Need to have a look at the back end,” he murmured.  He caught Eve’s eye and she followed him out the door.

 

With the rear casing removed as well, Eve ran her fingers over the worn and dusty parts of the motor.

 

“What do you think?”  He murmured.

 

“No problem,” she murmured back.  “Assuming I can get the parts...” she trailed off and flashed a charming smile at Nan, who’d appeared at the back door.  “Can I have a look in that tool shed, Nan?”  She asked.

 

“Be my guest, if it’ll help.”

 

The door of the old shed gave way with a reluctant squeal.  Eve flipped a switch, flooding the interior with cobwebby light, and began picking through the long dormant detritus of a retired and now deceased man’s hobbies.

 

When she returned, she carried with her a soldering iron, copper wire, an assortment of nails and screws, a motorbike battery and an old plastic flower pot.  She worked, occasionally using the Doctor’s sonic screwdriver as a diagnostic tool, replacing the old air-conditioners worn out components with new ones of her own devising.  Using the sonic on a new setting, she softened the flower pot and moulded it into the shape she required, and then fastened the new covering over the make-shift repairs.  She gestured at the Doctor.

 

“Let ‘er rip?”  He asked.

 

“As you say,” she answered.  He flipped the switch and the air-conditioner obliged with a low and contented rumble, pumping blessedly cool air into the stifling sitting room.

 

“Hallelujah!”  Nan cried, standing in front of the unit and letting the cool air flow over her face and blow back her greying hair.  The relief in her face removed ten years from the Doctor’s original guess at her age.

 

“I’ve also routed the current back through that old battery to the grid, so the oscillations of the fan should generate more power than it consumes,” Eve told her.

 

“Care to run that by me again, love?”

 

Eve opened her mouth to explain, then thought better of it.  “Your electricity bills should be much lower from now on,” she summarised instead.

 

“Well, that’s a relief... oh, wouldn’t you know it!”  Nan opened the front door and stood back as a freshening breeze blew in.  “I just get the stupid air-conditioning fixed when the cool change comes through!  Come on, boys; let’s open ‘er up!”

 

Rory and the Doctor followed Nan through the house, opening up windows and doors to let the cool air through.  Eve switched off the air-conditioning unit and went to look at Amy’s ankle.

 

“Swellings come down a bit,” she murmured, turning the ankle from side to side as Amy winced in pain.  She cocked her head and listened to Nan’s voice coming from the other end of the house, and grinned at Amy. “Hold still...”  She placed her hands on Amy’s leg, concentrating on the hairline crack she sensed deep in the dense tissue of the bone.  A pulse of lilac light, and Amy’s face relaxed.

 

Amy rolled her ankle experimentally, then got up and took a few tentative steps.

 

“The rest of the swelling will go down once your body realises it’s not injured anymore,” Eve told her.

 

“All better now, love?”  Nan asked as she returned to the sitting room.  “Nothing like a good old fashioned ice-pack, eh?  Come out back, its cooler out there than in here now the change’s come through.”

 

They followed her through a glass sliding door onto the back patio which overlooked a functional two acre allotment.  The bottom half of the yard housed a riotous vegetable patch bursting at the seams with summer harvest.  The dense green foliage, pale orange zucchini flowers and bright red cherry tomatoes were a healthy contrast to the potato-crisp coloured lawn.  A large galvanised watering can stood sentry by the fence, the vegetables a testament to its ministrations.

 

“Anyway, have a seat, take a load off, sorry about the view!”  Nan cackled, waving one suntanned arm in the direction of the back yard.  “First hot spell we get and the bloody lawn turns up its toes.”

 

The Doctor hunkered down and poked at the dry patchy grass.  “You could try watering it,” he suggested.

 

“Can’t,” said Nan, sinking into another chair and sticking a cigarette in her mouth.  “There’s a drought, we’re on water restrictions.”

 

“Really?”  Amy asked.  In Leadworth, under the near constant cover of cloud and daily showers, the concept of drought was unheard of.

 

“Too right, love,” Nan took a drag and lowered her voice.  “Neighbours are a bunch of nosey buggers too, they’ll have the authorities breathing down my neck and issuing fines… bunch of water-Nazi’s if you ask me.”

 

“What are you restricted to, then?”  The Doctor asked.

 

“No watering with a sprinkler, hose, irrigation, whatever anytime; watering with a bucket or watering-can between the hours of 4pm and 8am only,” she recited.

 

“So you _can_ water it.”

 

“Not with a sprinkler, you can’t.  It’s all I can do to keep the vegies alive with just the watering can.”

 

“But, in theory, you could toss buckets of water on the lawn all night if the spirit moved you?”

 

“Well, yes.”  Nan said.

 

“How is that a restriction?  You can waste just as much water with a bucket as a sprinkler,” the Doctor pointed out.

 

“Presumably, the water authorities don’t believe any _normal_ person would bother watering a grassed allotment of this size using only a bucket,” Eve summarised.  “Or a watering-can.”

 

Amy was beginning to grin.

 

“Do I look like a normal person to you?”  The Doctor asked Eve.

 

“Never,” she said.

 

The Doctor winked and handed her his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and strode over to the garden tap.  He turned it, watched the water flow for a moment, then examined the dry sprinkler head on the end of the faded green garden hose, and ran a quick eye over the lawn.

 

“Fifteen litres a minute, half an hour per section and moving it at least five times, you’d use at least 2700 litres… probably 3000 litres because you’d forget about it and leave the tap running…” he muttered.  He grabbed the galvanised watering can and studied it closely.  “Nine litres which means you’d want to refill it 333 and a third times… oh just round it up to 334 and be done with it… two cans worth per square metre…”  He started running water into the can, grinning over at them.

 

“He’s not serious,” Rory groaned.

 

“I think he is,” Amy said gleefully.  She took a seat and prepared to watch the action.

 

Over the next five and a half hours, as the sun went down and the moon came up, as Nan smoked her way through half a packet of cigarettes and eventually offered grilled cheese and tomato on toast for supper (Eve declined but picked and ate various vegetables from the patch, still warm from the sun), and as the four of them watched, the Doctor dutifully filled the galvanised watering can over and over again.  He methodically watered every square inch of the parched back lawn, removing his bow-tie after an hour or so and handing it to Eve… “give me that thing, I’ll chuck it out” Amy whispered, but Eve refused to hand it over.

 

Just after ten in the evening the Doctor emptied the three hundred and thirty fourth watering can’s worth of water onto the lawn, and took a bow to the applause of his audience.  He collapsed into one of Nan’s chairs looking exhausted but happy.

 

“You’re insane,” Eve told him, leaning over to loop the tie loosely around his neck.  “You know that, right?”

 

“Of course,” he grinned.  “Thank you, dear lady…” he said, accepting a cool drink from Nan.

 

“You’re not only insane, you’ve probably tripled my next water bill,” she told him.

 

The Doctor looked startled.  “You have to _pay_ for water?”  He asked.

 

“That’s the other reason I don’t water the lawn,” she said.

 

“Not to worry.”  He found his jacket and searched through the pockets until he came up with a battered credit card.  He ran the sonic over it and handed it to Thelma.  “When the bill comes in, charge it to this.”

 

Thelma held the card up to the light.  “ ‘Jack Harkness’,” she read, and eyed the Doctor cheekily.  “How do you know I’m not going to buy up big on ebay using this?”  She asked.

 

“You’re welcome to as far as I’m concerned,” said the Doctor.  “Jack should think more about his wallet and less about groping my backside next time he hugs me.”

 

Amy raised an eyebrow.  “Old boyfriend?”  She teased.

 

“Yeah, he wishes,” the Doctor scoffed, rolling his eyes.

 

“Nan?”  Called a voice.  “Are you out the back?”

 

“Oh, here’s himself,” Nan muttered to the others.  “Out here, David,” she called, throwing her head back.

 

“Nan, I am _so_ sorry, when I talked to Simmo I didn’t realise he was half-cut and couldn’t...” the young man trailed off as he rounded the corner of the house and spotted his grandmother’s guests.  “Hello...” he said tentatively.

 

“Dave, how’s it going mate?”  The Doctor leapt out of his chair and bounded over to shake Dave’s hand.  “The Doctor, Amy, Rory, Eve...” he pointed at the others in turn, raising his eyebrows at the young man.

 

“Your old friends from Leadworth,” Amy grinned, toasted the confused young man with her lemonade glass.

 

“Right... what?”

 

“They fixed the air-conditioning _and_ watered my lawn,” Nan said, beaming indulgently.  She took Dave’s arm and steered him towards an empty chair.

 

“Oh good, thanks for that... mate,” Dave stammered, finally catching on.  “Cheers, um, Doctor... Nan, how many times do I have to tell you?!”  He snatched a cigarette out of his grandmother’s hand.  “These things will kill you!”

 

“Because the ravages of time aren’t doing a good enough job?”  Nan said, rolling her eyes.  “Now, why don’t you be a good boy and take these nice young people out for a drink?”

 

 **  
  
**

**  
  
**

**  
  
**

**  
_I love to have a drink with Duncan..._   
**

 

“The old adage is true.” Eve muttered to Amy, lifting her chin in the direction of the bar.

 

“What’s that then?”

 

“ ‘Growing old is compulsory, growing _up_ is optional’.”

 

“Urgh!  Never was a truer word spoken,” Amy agreed.  “It’s actually embarrassing to be associated with them, isn’t it?”

 

At the bar, a chorus of cheers erupted as three emptied pint glasses slammed onto the bar simultaneously and Dave, Rory and the Doctor sat back laughing.

 

“Dead heat!”  Crowed Simmo.  “Another round!”

 

“’s on me!”  Dave slurred, clapping his hand on the Doctor’s shoulder.  “Mate, if you hadn’t shown up me Nan’d have me guts for garters!”

 

Three more pints appeared to the chant of ‘Scull! Scull! Scull!’

 

“ _And_ they’re taking the credit for your work,” Amy said.

 

Eve shrugged.  “I don’t mind,” she said.  “Beside which, there is a time and place to demonstrate one’s superior abilities, and this is _not_ it.”  She winced as another outburst signalled Rory’s ejection from the drinking competition.  He staggered over and collapsed in a seat next to Amy.

 

“Retired hurt?”  Amy teased.

 

“Sometime like that,” Rory said, burping into his hand.  “Sorry, I figured you didn’t want me vomiting all over the place and passing out in your lap.”

 

“You figured correctly,” Amy said

 

“The Doctor’s gathering quite a fan club,” Rory said.

 

“Complete with groupies...”  Amy frowned and Eve spun around to observe a pretty local girl winding herself around the Doctor and playfully placing an Akubra on his head.  He laughed delightedly at his new headwear and poked his tongue out for the camera as the girl’s friend took a photo with her mobile phone.  “He’s going to get himself into trou-ble,” Amy sing-songed, watching the Doctor’s new friend whisper in his ear, and then flounce off toward the ladies toilets.

 

“Friendly people,” The Doctor exclaimed.  He collapsed into a chair and tipped back the Akubra he’d been gifted with.  “Quite remarkable, really.”

 

“Yes, we noticed you’d made a... friend,” Amy commented drily.

 

“Yes!  Tina!  Lovely woman,” he nodded solemnly.  “I’m not sure I really understand though...” he sat forward.  “She asked me to go back to her room.  Should I go?”

 

Rory snorted.

 

“No, you probably shouldn’t,” Amy said, a glance at Eve’s face confirmed her horror.

 

“I would second that,” Eve put in, regaining her composure.  “You would be ill advised to accompany that young, er, lady to her room.”

 

The Doctor looked mystified.  “Why?”

 

Rory snorted again, took an overlarge swallow of his beer, and began coughing.

 

Amy rolled her eyes.  “Would you like me to spell it out for you?”  She asked.

 

“Please do.”  The Doctor looked relieved.

 

“Do you want to have sex with that woman?”

 

“What?!  Good heavens, no!”  The Doctor looked affronted.  “Is _that_ what she meant?  She wants to... I’ve only just met her, what sort of a man does she think I _am?”_

 

“A drunk man,” said Amy.

 

“A drunk...  Is that what drunk men do?”  He looked at Rory for help.  “They meet random women and...” he flapped his hand, unable to bring himself to vocalise the act.

 

“Well, _yeah_ ,” Amy said as though this were obvious.  “Generally, single drunk men are more than happy to shag any bird who crosses his path and seems half keen.”

 

“And some that aren’t,” Rory put in. “Single that is.  Not that I ever...”

 

Amy rolled her eyes again.  “I know you didn’t dear, not really the focus of the conversation though.”

 

“So... what am I supposed to do now?”  The Doctor shot a petrified glance at the door to the ladies toilets.  “Somehow I’ve given her the impression that I want to... to...”

 

“Shag her.”

 

“Shag her, yes,” the Doctor made an unconscious moue of distaste.  “I don’t want to offend local customs...”

 

“That’s pretty much a universal custom, mate,” Rory said.

 

“Well, I’ll just go and explain I didn’t understand what she was insinuating and that while she’s a perfectly lovely young woman it would be inappropriate for me to...”

 

“No no no!”  Amy exclaimed.  “She’ll be mortified!  You have to give her the impression that you’re... that you’re...” she looked at Rory for help.

 

“Otherwise spoken for?”  He suggested.

 

“Yes!”  Amy clapped her hands and the Doctor jumped, his eyes round.  “You’ve already got a girlfriend, you can’t possibly go with her because...” she trailed off, turning to Eve and beginning to smile.

 

“Oh no,” Eve said, already catching Amy’s thought-process and shaking her head.

 

“You have to, I can’t possibly do it, they already know I’m married to buggalugs here...” she hooked her thumb at Rory.

 

“That’s right, she can’t,” Rory chimed in.  “You’ll have to do it.”

 

“Noooo,” Eve moaned, trying with all her might to send a single terrified thought in Amy’s direction:  _I can’t you know I can’t don’t make me..._

 

The Doctor raised his hand like a bewildered child.  “Would someone care to fill me in?”

 

“Eve’s your girlfriend,” Amy told him.

 

“She is?”  He turned his astonished gaze in Eve’s direction, and she smiled weakly.

 

“For the purpose of this little charade, she is,” Amy said briskly.  “Now... um... okay, _you_ just sit there...” she moved the Doctor onto the padded bench of the booth.  “And _you_...” she grabbed Eve and shunted her forward.  “Sit on his lap.”

 

Eve toppled gracelessly into the Doctor’s arms, reaching out automatically to break her fall and hooking her arm around his neck.

 

“Okay, good!”  Amy said.  “That’s good... look, try to _pretend_ like you’re enjoying yourselves at least, you’re supposed to be in love.”  Eve glared at her.

 

“They should be kissing,” Rory put in helpfully.  “When that Tina comes out, I mean.”

 

“Are you insane?”  Eve hissed.

 

“No, he’s right, you _should_ be, that’ll seal the deal,” Amy enthused.

 

 _It’ll seal something_ , Eve thought, blushing madly.

 

“She’s coming,” Rory whispered urgently.

 

Eve turned back to the Doctor.  “I’ve never kissed anyone before,” she whispered to him.

 

“I’ll talk you through it...”

 

Eve raised an eyebrow.

 

“In a manner of speaking...”

 

“Doctor!”  Amy hissed.

 

Hesitating a moment, the Doctor hooked his forefinger under Eve’s chin and tilted her head, pressing his lips against hers gently.  For as long as she could, Eve held her body stiff and refused to breathe.  Then, without warning, her body responsed.  She inhaled, breathing in his scent as her fingers twined themselves into his hair, and kissed him back.  She was aware of his arm tightening around her waist, his other hand sliding along the line of her jaw to settle near her throat, his fingers pressing lightly just behind her ear...

 

Inwardly, Eve gasped as the interior of the pub dropped away and her mind charted a new course.  The Doctor’s clean, sweet medicinal scent became vanilla, and something akin to cinnamon, and she realised she was experiencing the world through his senses.

 

Dimly, she heard an outraged exclamation, and Amy’s soothing Scottish brogue saying words like “terrible flirt” and “practically engaged”.  Slowly, the scents of hops and yeast and sweat replaced what had gone before and the room swam into auditory focus, like the volume control had been turned back up, as she opened her eyes.

 

“Now then, that wasn’t too painful, was it?”  The Doctor whispered, his breath tickling her ear.  She schooled her body to stillness again and refused to acknowledge the tremble in his voice.

 

“Is it safe to turn around?”  She whispered back.

 

“Turn your head just a little... that’s enough... pretend I’m murmuring sweet nothings in your ear...”

 

Eve formed her lips into a blissful smile as she scanned the room, zeroing in on the Doctor’s ‘friend’ at the bar.  The girl appeared to be downing a shot of some restorative brew while nodding sagely at the monologue another young lady was delivering.

 

"She seems to be taking it rather well," Eve murmured.  _And if you stop doing that with your hand I'll be able to think straight, too..._ she added in her mind.   As naturally as she could, Eve grasped the fingers that were still curling themselves her hair, squeezed them gently, and removed them, catching his eye as she did.

 

  



“Right,” he said, momentarily flustered.  “Sorry.”

 

 

 **  
  
**

**  
  
**

**  
_Nullarbor_   
**

 

The night was cool and still, the reddish sand beneath their feet was still warm from the heat of the day.  At midday, the sand would be too hot to walk on, but three hours past sunset it was just perfect, and Eve dug her toes in.  The Doctor lay on his back, hands tucked behind his head and his new Akubra rising and falling on his chest as he breathed.

 

“Akubras are cool,” Eve told him.

 

“I preferred the Fez, actually.”

 

“You wear a Fez out here during the day you’ll fry to a crisp.”

 

“Good point,” he murmured.  “Look at the stars, will you?”

 

Eve lowered herself gracefully to the desert floor and stretched out, next to the Doctor.  Away from city lights in the dense blackness of the outback night, the sky was everything.  It stretched in their field of vision from one horizon to the other, the stars strewn like droplets of hot milk.  The constellations were alien to Eve but then the skies had always been indifferent to the tiny creatures that observed it from the surface of a planet, and she felt no fear or hostility.  Only a sense of loneliness which came from being the only one of her kind left alive.

 

From the Doctor’s mind Eve caught images of another planet, another sky, and the sense of a long life stretching away into the distance, and a single mind – unique among many.  The same hollow feeling that the world he pictured, and the people who’d inhabited, were lost to him.

 

Eve searched for and found his hand in the darkness and squeezed it.  He squeezed back.

 

“You know what I like about you, Eve?”  He asked at length.  “You get it.  You get _me_. You don’t have to ask any questions, and I don’t have to try to explain it all to you because you’ve been there, done that, and bought the t-shirt.  We don’t have to talk, chatter on aimlessly, we can just _be_ , and that’s all right.”

 

“For someone who doesn’t need to talk, you sure are doing a lot of it.”

 

“Righto.  Shutting up then.”

 

The shutting up lasted all of ten seconds before the Doctor began pointing out the constellations in the southern night sky.  Eve didn’t bother to pull him up on it: if he needed to talk, he needed to talk, even if it was aimless ramblings about the patterns in the sky.  She tuned out the words and floated on the tone of his voice and the unconscious images he projected from his mind.  That she could pick up on them confirmed what she already suspected:  their minds were beginning to bond.  And although this was dangerous, given the difference in their biochemical make-up, she couldn’t bring herself to halt the process.  She had been alone for so very long and, in spite of the travelling companions and hangers-on he’d collected over the years, so had he.

 

“The sounds of the night are incredible, aren’t they?”  He went on.  “And there isn’t a tree for miles but I swear I can smell flowers.”

 

 

 

 

 **  
_Firestorm_   
**

 

 _She was alone.  As usual.  The twin suns warmed her and warmed her world, the temperature constant and predators non-existent.  She walked through the long grass, trailing her hands over the top of the stalks, pulling seed-heads and listening to the seed patter onto the fertile soil._

 _The village.  The house._

 _In the blink of an eye she was there, an unseen observer as an egg hatched and a couple rejoiced._

 _The baby, pale and perfect, opened her eyes.  Dark, too dark.  Somewhere in colour between an amethyst and an onyx, and wrong, so very wrong._

 _“Mother,” Eve said.  Her lips moved, but no sound emerged._

 _The mother, startled and horrified, laid the infant back among the discarded pieces of shell, turned her back and walked away._

 _In a clearing close to the village, a child played.  Alone and lonely, surrounded by others of her kind, but one of a kind.  The child had never known danger and as a member of the community, had never been left to starve, had always been provided for, but..._

 _In a world of soft pale colours, her eyes were considered evil.  An abomination._

 _The child was alone.  As usual.  Eve watched, unseen, as she raised her beautiful awful dark eyes to the horizon.  The child frowned, and Eve followed her gaze._

 _A path of light, a fire-front of destruction.  The light came, and the screams came, and her people with their pale eyes, blinded and then burned by a light they could no longer see.  The child saw the light and the destruction that left nothing, not even ash, in its wake._

 _In her terror, an ability thought to be extinct turned from latent to active and she reached out with her mind and tore a hole in reality.  As the burning light tore its mindless path through her world, the child forced her way through the hole and, stirring another latent ability, healed the wound behind her wiping the memory of the act, along with her name, from her memory._

  
“The light!”  Eve gasped, sitting up and staring around.  The colours were wrong.  The scent was wrong.  The room was wrong.  She lurched out of bed, staggering and holding her head.  “I need... I need...”

 

She reached out with her mind and her body followed where her head was leading.  She had trod this path only once before and with the light of fusion still roaring in her head she was barely aware of the route as her feet carried her through the corridors of the ship.

 

The scent grew stronger and she followed her nose as well as her mind.  The throbbing in her head grew less, the roar faded and her eyes were blank and empty as she crossed the threshold a second time.

 

“Eve?”  The Doctor scrambled to his feet.

 

“The light,” she murmured.  “It burned.”

 

“Eve?”  The Doctor repeated.  “Are you okay?  Are you sleep-walking?”  He approached her cautiously and waved a hand in front of her face.  No response.

 

“The light it burned it destroyed everything and I went away...” Her voice was a perfect monotone.

 

“Eve,” he said a third time, taking her hand and squeezing it.

 

She blinked.  Her eyes cleared and she focused on him.  “Doctor?”  The shaking started in at her core and radiated out until her teeth were chattering, her hands trembled and her knees gave way.

 

Catching her and lowering her gently to the floor, the Doctor dragged a throw rug from the chair he’d just vacated and wrapped it around Eve’s shuddering body, holding her tight.

 

“I remember,” she told him.  “I...”

 

“Tore a hole in space and time,” he finished for her.

 

“I...”

 

“Healed it, too.”

 

“I...”

 

“Forgot your name.”

 

“I was alone, and frightened, and naked,” she went on as though he hadn’t spoken.  “I stole clothes from a market, and a newspaper.  I read the words and learned the language and when a kind old woman asked my name I said...”

 

“’New Years _Eve Riley_ Street Celebration’,” murmured the Doctor.  “The headline from the newspaper.”

 

Eve’s eyes rolled back in her head and she lost consciousness.

 

“How do I know all that?”  The Doctor whispered, holding tight to Eve’s unconscious form.  “What are you doing to me?!”

 

 

 

 **  
_Tears_   
**

 

“Like this,” said Eve.  She pulled off her cloak and tented the fabric in two places with her index fingers.  “I’m here...” she indicated her right finger “...and this is where I want to go...” she indicated her left finger.  Slowly she brought her two fingers together until the apex of each fabric tent touched.  “Then it’s just like... like opening a window into another world.”

 

“I still don’t get it,” Amy said.

 

“I do,” said Rory.  He started drawing on a piece of scrap paper.  “You’re here, you want to go _here_ , so rather than walking from point A to point B, you simply...” he lifted the two ends of the paper until they met “... fold the paper.”

 

“Fold _reality_ ,” the Doctor corrected.  “And tear a hole in it.”

 

“And Heal it again,” Eve reminded him.

 

The Doctor flapped his hand at her as if to say ‘that’s beside the point’.  His face was pale and drawn, and he’d been very careful not to touch Eve, or even look her directly in the eye.

 

“Could you do it again?”  Asked Amy.  “Like right here, just ‘open a window’ and walk through.”

 

“I don’t know,” said Eve.  “Probably...”

 

“Probably not a good idea,” said the Doctor.

 

“Oh, don’t be such a spoil sport, let her try,” Amy admonished.

 

Eve wasn’t listening.  She was concentrating on the grass beneath the palm of her hand, and the sand on the beach at the far end of the park.  Her eyes narrowed.  The fabric of reality folded, she slipped her hand into the hole she’d created and scooped up a handful of sand, bringing it back to dump it on the picnic rug.  A pulse of purple light, and the hole disappeared.

 

“Holy... Jesus!”  Amy exclaimed.

 

“That worked well,” said Rory.

 

“It worked”, the Doctor allowed.  “I wouldn’t go so far as to say it worked _well_.”  He scanned the patch of grass Eve had ‘torn’.  “There’s a scar here now.”

 

“Could you do it... bigger?”  Amy asked.

 

“Out of the question.”  The Doctor cut in.  “It’s a clumsy and dangerous way to travel, plus you have no guidance whatsoever, you have no idea where or _when_ you’ll end up.  Which is dangerous enough in itself, you could land yourself in the middle of a supernova.”

 

“Which is exactly what I was trying to get away from, if you’ll recall...”

 

“Yes but you’re... you’re performing the temporal equivalent of delicate brain surgery with a sharpened hatchet!  Sure, you’ll make yourself a big enough hole to operate through, and you might even be capable of sewing it up again later, but in the meantime the patient bleeds out and dies on the operating table!”

 

“In this metaphor, the patient would be...?”  Rory asked.

 

“Reality itself.”  The Doctor said.  “You can’t just tear dirty great holes in the fabric of reality... even if you Heal them again immediately and not expect massive scars to form.”

 

“Oh, and I supposed I should have just stayed where I was then?”  Eve put in hotly, her eyes flashing.  “Burned to a crisp, never mind the fact that I was capable of saving myself, just so long as the ‘fabric of reality’ remains as virgin as freshly fallen snow!”

 

“I didn’t say that, Eve, of course you were right to use this... magnificent latent ability to save yourself,” the Doctor soothed. 

 

“And, hang on, if your name isn’t really Eve Riley, what is it then?” Amy asked.

 

“ _That_ I still don’t remember,” Eve said, rising gracefully to her feet.  She and Amy folded the blanket between them as the Doctor dug the TARDIS key out of his pocket.

 

In the control room, the Doctor tapped one finger against his lips, thinking.

 

“If you could focus the energy, like light through a lens,” he murmured.  He bounded up the stairs and then turned back, looking directly at Eve for the first time since the incident in his study.  “If I could supply you with the right parts, what could you build?”

 

“With the right parts,” Eve replied.  “What _couldn’t_ I build?”

 

#          #          #

 

They left Eve and the Doctor rummaging through the bits and pieces of junk and squabbling over ways to focus Eve’s peculiar talent through a piece of machinery, and began wandering randomly through the corridors of the ship.  They poked their heads into rooms and called to the other if they found anything worth mentioning.

 

At length, Amy spoke:  “So... she can move through space and time, but without a TARDIS.”

 

“Seems that way,” Rory agreed.  “Hmm.  Home gym,” he murmured, pulling a door closed.  “That might be worth remembering.”

 

“Like you’ve ever used gym equipment,” Amy snorted.  She ran her fingers through the golden ivy-like foliage which had started growing on the walls.  “There are no windows in here, have you noticed that?”

 

“I don’t think these things obey the laws of architecture, it can’t even obey the laws of physics.”

 

“Hmmm,” Amy murmured.  “ ‘Like reaching out and opening a window’.”

 

“But in her case, she’d be opening a window to another part of the universe.”  Said Rory. 

 

“Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”

 

Rory shot her a questioning look.

 

“How many other... things... have just ‘opened a window’ and popped out on earth.”

 

Rory considered this.  “We’re so busy looking at the skies, waiting for UFOs to appear and it never occurred to us we were looking in the wrong direction all along.”

 

“Remember those Silurians under Cwmtaff?  All that time and nobody even knew they were there!”  Amy opened another door.  “Hey, what do you suppose this is for?”

 

Rory doubled back and joined Amy at the door, tipping his head to the side overbalancing in an attempt to make sense of what he was seeing.  “Zero gravity room?”  He guessed.  He caught Amy’s eye and she grinned.

 

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” She teased.

 

“I’ll get my fireman outfit and meet you back here in ten minutes...”

 

“Better make it five or I’ll start without you!”

 

“Crazy woman...”

 

#          #          #

 

“Come on, you _have_ to see this!”  Said Amy, dragging the Doctor into the control room.

 

“I really don’t,” he muttered.

 

“Okay,” she said to Eve.  “Go!”

 

Eve stood next to the console, grinning.  She turned a dial on the belt she wore, pressed a couple of buttons, twiddled her fingers at the others... and disappeared.  She reappeared instantly on the other side of the room.

 

“Well?”  Asked Amy, quivering with excitement.

 

“What do you think?”  Eve asked quietly.  The Doctor’s stony silence made her heart sink.

 

“Very clever,” he nodded, staring at a spot on the wall and refusing to look at her.

 

“Very clever?”  Amy snorted.  “It’s brilliant!  Do it again!”  She urged Eve.

 

“Don’t,” said the Doctor quietly.  “Don’t use it too often...” he held up a hand to stave off Amy’s next objection.  “Look, it’s an improvement, it really is, but it is still a dangerous way to travel.”

 

“Oh come _on_ ,” moaned Amy.

 

The Doctor glanced in Eve’s general direction without looking directly at her.  “Be careful,” he told her.  He turned on his heel and stalked out of the control room.  Eve’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

 

“Look, don’t listen to him, I think its genius,” said Amy.  She slung one arm around Eve’s shoulders and gave her a brief, encouraging squeeze.

 

Eve shrugged out of the embrace and unclipped the belt.

 

“Do you mind if I...?”  Rory gestured towards the belt.

 

“Why not,” said Eve, handing it over.  “You can’t make it work, anyway.”

 

“I know, I just want to...” he clipped the belt around his hips and struck a pose.  “I’m Batman!”  He rasped, and Amy dissolved into a fit of giggles.  Eve smiled wanly.

 

“Suits you,” she murmured, starting towards her quarters.

 

“What do you call it again?”  Rory called after her.

 

“Vortex manipulator...”

 

#          #          #

 

In his study, away from her scent and her mind, the Doctor was still unable to relax.  He paced the length of the room.  The wings.  It was something to do with the wings but why couldn’t he put his finger on it?  Every time he came close to the answer it danced away from him leaving only the scent of her, and the pictures in his mind which had come from hers.

 

“Something Amy said,” he muttered.  “Think!  Come on, _think_ , what’s the point of being so clever if you can’t remember one simple conversation...?”

 **  
  
**

**  
  
**

**  
  
**

**  
  
**

**  
_Classics_   
**

 

“Eve,” the Doctor sighed, looking up as she approached him.  “What did I say about coming in here?”

 

“You said I should come if I needed you...”

 

“You _need_ to stay away from here...”

 

“We _need_ to talk,” she countered.

 

“I don’t have anything to say.”  He turned away from her, refusing again to look her in the eye, the muscles in his jaw working.

 

Viewed in profile, he looked like nothing so much as a sulking teenager:  grey-green eyes narrowed, jaw jutting out, bottom lip sucked in just enough she could tell he was chewing on it or trying to.  His anger simmered just below the surface, controlled only by the act of looking away from the object of his fury.

 

Eve was in two minds.  Part of her wanted to slap the sullen look from his face:  shock him into realising how pig-headed he was being.  The other part wanted to turn his head, gently but firmly, to face her... tuck one finger under his chin and force him to look her in the eye and accept responsibility for his part.  And then kiss him.

 

Kiss him until his eyes rolled back and closed, his furrowed brow smoothed and his mouth opened to accept hers.  Kiss him until his fists uncurled and his hands concentrated only on the caress.  Kiss him until he was no longer capable of rational thought, of protest, of anything other than kissing her back and finishing what had started on the day they’d met.

 

Instead, she turned on her heel and stalked out of the study.

 

By the time she reached the quarters Amy and Rory had converted to a comfortable lounge room in another section of the ship, the anger had run out of her leaving only a deep sorrow and a sense of loss.

 

Eve slunk quietly into the lounge room and curled herself onto one of the easy chairs.  On the sofa Amy and Rory cuddled together under a blanket, their eyes glued on the television screen.

 

“Hey,” Amy ventured, glancing at Eve.

 

“Hey,” Eve whispered.  “What are you watching?”

 

“ _Jaws_ ,” Rory answered.  “It’s a classic.”

“Huh.”  Sceptical, she watched the crusty old salt on the screen pale beneath his five o’clock shadow and mutter ‘we’re gonna need a bigger boat’. 

 

“Have you seen it?”

 

“I don’t think so. The premise seems simple enough:  massive man-eating shark, frightened villagers, blue-eyed sunburned hero.  It’s not exactly rocket science.”

 

“Where’s the Doctor?”

 

“In his study,” Eve told them.

 

“I didn’t know he had a study,” said Rory.

 

“He only goes in there when he needs to get away from...” she paused and grimaced.  “...well... _me_.”

 

“Don’t take it personally,” Amy said, earning a withering look from Eve.  “Look, you’re not the first and you probably won’t be the last.”

 

“Sorry?”

 

“You’re in love with the Doctor.”

 

“I’m not in love with him,” said Eve, turning back to the screen.  “My kind don’t... experience love in the biochemical way humans seem to.”

 

“Uh huh,” said Amy, rolling her eyes at Rory.  “You are though.”

 

“Are what?”

 

“In love with him.”

 

Eve gave an exasperated sigh.  “Amy, it doesn’t work that way.”

 

Amy held her hands up in the shape of a W.

 

“I know what that means,” Eve growled.  “Look, we don’t ‘fall in love’, we form a kind of... psychic bond... between minds.  When bonded we can share thoughts and feelings...”

 

“Like a Vulcan-mind-meld?”  Rory suggested.

 

“A what?”

 

“Never mind...”

 

“Our minds can bond, but we don’t... love.”  She paused and winced as though in pain.  “He’s becoming aware of the bond now... and it scares him.”  Another pause, then:  “as it should.”

 

“Why should it scare him?”  Amy asked, disentangling from Rory’s embrace and sitting forward.

 

“We’re not of the same species, our chemistry and physiology is different, a Completed Bond could harm him.  Perhaps kill him.”

 

“What about you?”

 

“Me too.”

 

“How long have you known about this ‘bond’?”  Amy asked, narrowing her eyes.

 

Eve cut her eyes away from the redhead’s piercing stare.  “A while now.  A few months.”

 

“You’ve been aware of something that could harm, or possibly kill the Doctor for ‘a few months’ and you never said anything?”  Amy’s voice was rising.  “Why didn’t you leave?  Why didn’t you try to stop it?!”

 

“Amy, in your time, how many humans lived on your planet?”  Eve asked quietly.

 

Amy frowned.  “Umm... five...billion?”  She glanced at Rory.

 

“I think it’s closer to seven billion actually,” Rory said.

 

“Seven billion of _your_ kind,” Eve nodded.  She point to herself.  “ _One_ of my kind.”  She pointed in the direction of the Doctor’s study.  “One of _his_ kind.  And you ask me why I didn’t try to stop it?”

 

“But if it could hurt him, _kill_ him... if you truly love him...”

 

“It’s not _about_ love, Amy,” Eve said, her words slow and deliberate.  She sat forward on her chair.  “That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

 

“Can you stop it now?”  Rory wanted to know.

 

Eve shook her head.

 

“You wouldn’t stop it if you could, would you?”  Amy said.

 

Eve shook her head again.

 **  
  
**

**  
  
**

**  
  
**

**  
  
**

**  
_Coupling_   
**

 

 _“Can you fly?”  Amy had asked._

 _“I doubt it,” laughed Eve._

 _“Can you try...?”_

 

The Doctor narrowed his eyes.  He tapped at the keyboard and diagrams flashed across the screen.  “No...” he murmured, pressing his fingertips to his forehead.

 

 _“Biological perception filter... Purely organic.  But why?  I mean, I can understand why you’d need one to blend in on Earth, but why would your species need biological perception filters to hide your wings?”_

 

He stared at the screen, running his fingers through his hair.  “Oh no,” he moaned.  “How could I have missed that?”

 

The words on the screen pulsed out at him:  ‘for all intents and purposes useless for flight, the female’s wings are hidden from the male until they are required for...’

 

“Complete Bonding,” the Doctor said out loud.  His head throbbed.  “The process has already begun...” he staggered against the console, the heels of his hands pressed over his eyes as though they were about to pop out of his head.  “Eve...” he moaned. 

 

Stumbling the first few steps, the Doctor started running...

 

Eve rose to her feet as he staggered over the threshold of the study.  She approached him cautiously, noting his pale skin, the dark circles beneath his bloodshot eyes, and the thin rivulet of blood which trickled from his nose.

 

“You’ve completed your research,” Eve whispered.  “You know what my wings are for, now.  What my _scent_ is for.  _Who_ it’s for...”

 

“It’s for me,” he breathed, tracing one finger along her jawline.  “Everywhere I go, you’re there, filling my head with your scent.  Every time I turn around, your eyes are on me, undressing me in your mind...”  His hand pushed back her robe to unfurl her wings...

 

“I can’t help it...”

 

“Everything about you draws me, every little gesture, every turn of your head, every word makes me want you...”

 

“Doctor...”

 

“All you’ve wanted since the day we met was me... naked... pressed against you...”

 

“I’m sorry...”

 

“Everything about me makes you send out that scent...”  His mouth was against her throat... Her fingers unbuttoned his shirt even as she wept and begged his forgiveness.  “Everything... for me... for this...”

 

“I can’t...”

 

“You can’t live without me.”

 

“No.”

 

“You don’t have to,” he told her.  “What makes you think I don’t need you as much as you need me?”

 

Naked at last, he lifted her and slid himself gently inside.  She wrapped her legs around his hips and her wing around the both of them, and his eyes closed as her scent filled him.

 

“My head,” he moaned.

 

Carefully, Eve took his head between her hands and rested her forehead against his.  The joining of bodies was always easier than the linking of minds, and the difference in their species made link dangerous unless it was completed properly.  As he began to move inside her, she travelled through his memories, back from the moment of their coupling through his eleven lives, then forward again to the moment.  Tentatively, she opened her mind and let him experience her memories, backwards to the beginning, and forwards again...

 

 

 

 

 **  
_Metamorphosis_   
**

 

 _Earthquake_ , Amy’s mind whispered.  _Earthquake.  Earthquake_.

 

“Earthquake!”  She gasped sitting up in bed.  Around her the walls were thrumming and her water glass danced along the side table and shattered on the floor.

 

“Huh?!”  Rory snorted, his slumber shattering along with the glass.  “What the... what’s going on?”

 

“Something’s wrong,” Amy shouted over the noise, clambering out of bed and unsteadily making her way to the door.  “The TARDIS doesn’t do this; it’s as solid as a rock!”

 

“It’s a living organism!”

 

“A what?!”

 

“The Doctor explained it to me, TARDISs are grown not built, they’re living organisms and they develop a symbiotic relationship with the Time Lord...”

 

“English Rory, please!”  Amy moaned.

 

“The Bond,” Rory whispered.

 

“The what?”

 

“The Bond!”  Rory grabbed Amy by the shoulders.  “Whatever’s happening between Eve and the Doctor is affecting the TARDIS, it’s reacting to it... they must be completing the Bond!”  Rory dashed out of the room, careening off the door frame as the ship gave another lurch.

 

“Rory!”

 

“We have to find them!”

 

“How?!”  Amy shouted, throwing up her hands.  “This place is a bloody rabbit warren!”

 

“They’ll be in the Doctor’s study,” Rory decided.

 

“Who died and made you the expert?”

 

“There might be ship schematics somewhere.  In the control room perhaps.”

 

He took off at a run down the corridor with Amy hard on his heels.  In the control room he skidded to a stop and began rummaging through the various cabinets and screen that made up the console.

 

“Come on, there’s gotta be something somewhere...” he muttered.

 

Amy stopped in front of a screen showing a diagram which resembled Eve.  “Rory!”  She called.  “Look at this!”

 

Rory began reading the text, muttering medical jargon under his breath.  “Here!”  He exclaimed at length.  “Listen to this:  _at the moment of Complete Bonding, the female’s physiology undergoes metamorphosis to align her with that of her Life Mate_!”

 

“For the last time, Rory, in _English_ if you please!”

 

“She’ll change!  Like a caterpillar into a butterfly...”

 

“She’s already a bloody butterfly...”

 

“She’ll change to resemble him.  She’ll look human.” Rory finished.

 

“Time Lord,” Amy corrected.

 

“He _looks_ human.”

 

“I told him that once and he said ‘no, you look Time Lord.  We came first’.”  She looked up at her husband.  “So she’ll look... Time Lord.  Hang on, why does the female change to look like the male, that’s not really fair!”

 

“Well, I guess it’s like the woman taking on the man’s name when they get married, isn’t it?”  Rory suggested.

 

“You mean like I did, _Mr Pond_.”

 

“For the last time, I’m not calling myself Rory Pond.  We can hyphenate to Williams-Pond, if you like…”

 

“I’m not hyphenating anything…”  She trailed off and looked around the console room.  The ground has ceased shaking beneath their feet and all that was left of the ‘earthquake’ was a gentle thrumming.  “It’s over.  Whatever happened, it’s over now.”

 

Rory checked the screen again, tapping on the keyboard.  “Okay, she’ll look Time Lord now.  Her blood will be orange, her skin will be... well, skin coloured.  Her wings will be gone and she’ll have a binary vascular system…”

 

“Rory...”

 

“Two hearts,” Rory translated.

 

“The Doctor has two hearts?”

 

“Honestly, don’t you ever pay attention?” 

 

“Oh, shut up.”  Amy ran her fingers through her hair and looked around the console room. 

 

“We still have to find them,” Rory said.  “We should split up, we’ll cover more ground that way.”

 

“Right... wait, what are you doing?”

 

Rory rummaged around in a cabinet and came out with an ancient doctor’s bag.  “Medical supplies,” he told her, holding it up.  “I’m still a nurse; I might be able to help.”

 

“Good thinking.”

 

Kissing Amy quickly, Rory turned and dashed down a staircase towards the library.  Amy started off in the opposite direction through the wardrobe room towards the living quarters.

 

“Doctor!  Eve!”

 

“Eve!  Doctor, where are you?”

 

“Doctor...” Rory skidded to a stop just beyond an open door and retraced his steps, peering into what looked like a ransacked office.  Naked and unconscious on the floor lay the Doctor, while a young woman, wrapped in a throw rug from one of the overturned chairs leaned over him.  “Eve?”  Rory whispered.

 

The young woman looked around and smiled beatifically, the expression lighting up her face.  Her eyes were brilliant green and her finely boned features were framed with a mass of strawberry blond curls, their ends turning gold in the muted light of the Doctor’s destroyed study.

 

“Shh,” she said.  “I think he’s starting to come around.”

 

“Eve?”  Rory crunched over broken glass and bent down to touch the powdered lilac remains of Eve’s wings on the floor.

 

“It’s me,” Eve said.  “I’ve heard about this happening...” she looked down at herself, pulling the rug away from her chest just far enough to take a peek at her breasts.  She giggled delightedly and patted her hair.

 

“Are you alright?”  Rory placed the bag on the floor and drew out a stethoscope.  “May I?”

 

“Of course.”  Eve lifted her chin and pulled the rug down just enough so that Rory could listen to her chest.  He placed the pad on one side, then the other, listening intently.

 

“Binary vascular system,” he confirmed.  He checked the Doctor’s hearts and found a strong, if elevated beat.  He stuck a digital thermometer in Eve’s ear until it beeped a few seconds later.  “16 degrees centigrade,” he murmured.  “All normal”.

 

“Good to know,” Eve replied drily.

 

Rory bent over the Doctor, who was beginning to moan and turn his head.  “You okay mate?”  Rory called into his face, squeezing his shoulders.

 

“Never... better...” the Doctor rasped, and Eve gave another delighted laugh.

 

In the distance:  “Eve!  Doctor!”

 

“In here, Amy,” Rory called.  “They’re here!  They’re fine!”

 

“Rory!”

 

“In here!”

 

A dishevelled Amy appeared in the doorway and breathed a sigh of relief as she spotted the Doctor dragging himself into a sitting position and trying to pull some of Eve’s rug over himself.  Then she looked at Eve.

 

Amy’s already pale skin turned alabaster, then slightly green as the blood drained from her face.

 

“River?!”  She choked.

 

Rory’s head whipped around and he stared at Eve as though seeing her for the first time.  “River Song?  How did I forget about River Song?”

 

“You were a plastic Centurion, she was Cleopatra to you,” Amy told him.

 

“Right,” Rory said, blinking and shaking his head.  “Plastic Centurion...”

 

“River...” Eve murmured, turning slowly to the Doctor.  “River... Song.  That’s my name... isn’t it?”

 

The Doctor nodded slowly and started to smile.  “Hello sweetie,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, but loving all the same.  “Lovely to finally meet you.”

 

 

 

 

 **  
_Epilogue_   
**

 

“Are we supposed to get married now?”  River asked.

 

“I don’t know,” the Doctor said.  “You never told me.  I think I accidentally proposed to you at Amy and Rory’s wedding, though.”

 

“What did I say?”

 

The Doctor grinned.  “Uh-uh,” he said, holding his finger to his lips.  “Spoilers!”

 

River shook her head.  “This time travel stuff...”

 

“Ah, you’ll get used to it.”

 

“I don’t have to leave straight away, though...”

 

“You’d better not...”


End file.
